


Souls of Virtue

by Sailorpluto1709



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 0Mystery, Angst, Before barrier era, Depression, Discrimination, Fighting, Hints at suicidal thoughts, Humans, I haven't decided yet, I'm not sorry, Mages, Magic, Monsters, Post-Pacifist Route, War, Yes they sign, actually its going to bounce between two timelines, but they can still talk, by the way i can't tag worth a damn, gender neutral frisk, i just don't get it really, integrating into human society, might occur in the story, selctively mute Frisk, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorpluto1709/pseuds/Sailorpluto1709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. The two races ruled over Earth peacefully and both prospered greatly. Conflict was rare as the two races worked side-by-side to create a stable society. </p><p>As they grew closer, it soon became apparent to the HUMANS that the MONSTERS had a skill they did not possess: magic. In order to appease the HUMANS’ jealousy, the seven Boss Monster races agreed to teach and train seven human clans. These clans prospered under the tutelage of the MONSTERS and soon produced one powerful mage each. </p><p>Peace, once again, ruled between the two races of Earth for many millennia. But peace is difficult to maintain. </p><p>One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell cast by seven mages. The powerful barrier prevented any from leaving its confines, with a heavy price. </p><p>But, how did the conflict begin? What became of the mages who cast the barrier? What does the future hold for MONSTERS now that they are free? </p><p>This is their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy, all!
> 
> I have recently become complete Undertale trash and I will freely admit I was not expecting that. I have fallen headfirst into a love of this game and all the AUs that have sprung up from it that it's become nearly impossible to get my head away from this damn fandom. (And OMG the AUs! Ya'll be talented.) 
> 
> This is basically a thought experiment. I'm not sorry. I really wanted to explore the idea of what happened BEFORE the barrier was erected, what might have happened to force all the monsters underground and before I knew it, this idea came into fruition. Don't worry, I'll be going back and forth between pre-barrier era and post-pacifist ending, so we'll still see all our lovelies. I, for the most part, have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this so please leave ideas and comments for me because it is a genuine help! 
> 
> Welp, here's my attempt at whatever this ends up being. Hope you all enjoy and again, please leave your feedback! :D

Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. The two races ruled over Earth peacefully and both prospered greatly. Conflict was rare as the two races worked side-by-side to create a stable society.

As they grew closer, it soon became apparent to the HUMANS that the MONSTERS had a skill they did not possess: magic. In order to appease the HUMANS’ jealousy, the seven Boss Monster races agreed to teach and train seven human clans. These clans prospered under the tutelage of the MONSTERS and soon produced one powerful mage each. These seven mages spread throughout the world and taught their skills to humans and monsters alike.

Peace, once again, ruled between the two races of Earth for many millennia. But peace is difficult to maintain.

One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell cast by seven mages. The powerful barrier prevented any from leaving its confines, with a heavy price.

The MONSTERS, with heavy hearts, turned to their new home with HOPE for a fallen ANGEL to set them free. The HUMANS, ecstatic with their victory, turned their backs on Mt. Ebott and allowed it to fall into superstition and urban legend. But, how did the conflict begin? What became of the mages who cast the barrier? What does the future hold for MONSTERS now that they are free?

This is their story.

\- - -

Year 1015

 

“Remember the plan,” Master Adair states, leaning heavily against his carved, wooden staff. “This spell is easy to construct, but it is not easy to implement. Remember why you are doing this. Remember what you are trying to save and protect.”

The six younger individuals all nod, their gazes strong and resolute. For once, all of them are steady and prepared and of one single mind: save Earth, even if that means doing such an unforgivable act.

One turns her gaze outward, toward the mountain that will be the last stand for them all. The peak stands tall and proud against the forget-me-not blue of the afternoon sky. Forests cover the base and surroundings of the lone mountain, hiding the race that is quickly making its way towards it and towards their prison. Snow caps the peak, reflecting the sunlight back into her eyes painfully even though the air around her is a warmth resonate with late summer. She knows without being able to see it of the lake perched within a small dip in the upward climb of the mountain, a place she often frequented in the past five and ten years of her training. The lake is deceptively deep and offered much by way of training and relaxation. A small pang hits her when she realizes she will never see that lake again, nor the forests at the base. She will never build another snowman or have another snowball fight after this day.

One way or another, this war will end.

“Rhiannon,” Master Adair calls, noticing her wandering attention.

She snaps to attention immediately, her hand clutched tightly around her own staff of power, the uncut jade at its tip sparking lightly with her erratic emotions. She grits her teeth, lowering her eyes to the leaf-heavy ground in apology. “I apologize, Master,” she whispers.

He sighs, the sound holding nothing but the tiredness his advanced age allows him to have. “It is alright, child,” he rumbles, his deep voice calming and soothing. “The task set before you is not an easy one. However, I commend you for agreeing to follow through with it. All of you.” She lifts her eyes in time to see him transfer his old brown gaze to each young mage in turn.

She follows the path of his gaze, looking at each friend in their loose circle. Sindri—patient and sweet Sindri of the Pitcairn clan, the holders of Souls of Patience. His darkened skin is riddled with minor cuts and bruises from the past battles he has narrowly escaped with his life. His dark eyes return her gaze holding all of the sorrow she feels in her heart. He was to be married within the next fortnight, only for all of that happiness to crash around him three months ago upon the realization of his lover having been killed, no more than a pile of ash within her own home. Korinna of the Blyth clan, keepers of Brave souls. Her left wrist is wrapped tightly in a cast that had been broken last week in a skirmish within the heat of battle, her attempts of separating the two factions causing her current injury instead. Her blonde hair drifts in the wind, her stance even and strong. Bain, lone survivor of the Innes clan and the remaining holder of the Soul of Integrity. His jaw is clenched tightly, but his dark blue eyes show no hint of doubt. His belief in their cause—in its ability to save everyone on this planet—is strong and has not once wavered since she proposed the idea to them all. Any hint of doubt or tumultuous emotions stem from the indigo jewel atop his mage-staff, the lights roiling within their depths. Julianna, tears still falling down her cheeks but still remaining proud and strong. She had just given birth two days prior, a baby girl that is now the youngest of the Pentland Clan and has the brightest soul of Perseverance that the clan has seen since Julianna herself was a babe. She will see this through to the end, no matter what. Finally, Rhiannon looks to the youngest of their group: Laelia. Her amber stone is calm, even though both of her hands clutch at the wood tightly. She has barely passed her apprenticeship stage with the previous Master mage of the Jardine clan. However, he was killed a mere three weeks prior to this meeting, forcing her to take up the mantle of the Soul of Justice far sooner than any of them would like.

Rhiannon’s eyes fall back on the elder in their group, her heart clenching tightly in her chest. The Mage of Determination, the ruby atop his staff shining proud and strong. All of them have looked up to him at some point within their lives. He, more than any of the other previous mages, spent time training them all at some point to teach them the virtues and vices of each soul that they carry within them. He should be home now, doting on the youngest in the Dalziel clan. But, no. He is here and facing the absolute worst thing she could ask him to do.

She leans her staff against her right shoulder, clutching it in both of her fists until her knuckles turn white. “What of Zachariah?” Korinna’s voice rings out in front of her, her alto voice lowered even further.

Master Adair is silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he thinks. Finally, he shakes his head, ruffling the grey hair atop his head. “I know not where he might be,” he replies. “However, it is safe to assume that he will not be our aide in this. Once the spell is constructed, he will not be able to stop it. Rest easy, child.”

Rhiannon wets her lips, her dark purple eyes skirting around the trees around the small clearing they had gathered in. Zachariah could be anywhere right now, ready to destroy all of their hard work. She refuses to let that happen. Straightening her posture, she looks towards the sky to affix the time in her mind. “We should depart,” she announces, realizing it is already past mid-afternoon. Lowering her eyes back to the ragtag group of mages, she offers them a strained smile. “Remember to wait for the signal before enacting the spell, but take the time to construct it. The signal should not sound for at least another candle mark.”

They all nod once to her, making her feel even more out of place than usual. As the keeper of the Soul of Kindness, she is not often looked to for leadership. But as this was her idea, she is the one who must give direction. She steps back with one final smile of gratitude—and hoping they see the silent message of remorse and apology. They follow her lead, and within moments, the tips of each colored staff flare brightly in a colored rainbow. A small pop of displaced air echoes through the clearing and she watches as each mage disappears in front of her to their assigned positions around the base of the mountain. She remains one second longer after Laelia disappears, then follows their lead.

When she opens her eyes again, she is standing in the forest, the leafy canopy above her head offering her ample shade and cover for the next couple hours of her life. She scans the shadowed trees around her, verifying she is alone before setting to work clearing the ground of the fallen leaves. Considering the size of this particular spell, it takes a while for her to clean the foliage for there to be enough empty space for her to lay the circle, but once she does, she sighs and wipes her forehead of the moisture that is slowly but surely gathering there. As much as she wants to use her magic for this tedious task—like she typically does on any given day—the amount of power it’s going to take for this spell to work is substantial. She cannot waste any more of her energy than she has to.

Once she can see the dark grass and dirt beneath her feet in its entirety, she sets to work laying out the circle using the tip of her staff, the jade stone shining brightly and leaving trails of literal light in every passing sweep. Odd markings and sigils of power begin to decorate the inside of the circle in a combination that only the most trained eyes can read. Those trained eyes being the other mages in her company. And, well, one other. Her eyes dart up to the trees surrounding her, looking out for any figure other than the small wildlife native to these forests. With her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, it would be all too easy for her to pick out any form that may come to interrupt her task. Thankfully, she finds nothing than more towering pines. Assured in her solace, she returns to laying out the rest of her spell.

After another half candle mark, she finishes, the completed spell pulsing once as she finishes the final sigil. She wipes the returned moisture off her forehead again, sighing. She isn’t sure if the expulsion of air was out of relief of her finished task, the exhaustion pulling on her mind and the menagerie of wounds across her limbs, or dread of what is about to happen. Rather than focus on a futile hope that will never come, she steps into the completed circle, the glowing emerald light brightening a few degrees as the source of power and focus of the spell enters it. She crosses her legs over one another and sits down, laying her staff across her lap. It should not be much longer now before the signal will sound. She can only hope all the others have completed their own circles in time.

She closes her eyes and bows her head, fighting off the tears that have suddenly gathered in her unusual eyes. She constantly has to remind herself that they are doing this for the good of Earth. The two races of the planet had been living side-by-side for millennia, mostly peacefully. But humans are a fickle and judgmental species. All it took was one little push to have everything come tumbling down of the peace they all had fought for. And to think, it happened right underneath the mage’s noses. Betrayed by one of their own. And now this is what it has come to.

A branch snaps off to her left and her head snaps to the noise immediately, eyes popping open with purple fire in their orbs. She stares into the shadows for a long time, looking for the source of the noise. The hair on the back of her neck rises and that’s all she needs. “You cannot stop me, Zachariah,” she calls, her voice low in warning.

There’s a brief rustle of leaves before a shuffling figure steps forward. Her eyes rake his form, not surprised in the slightest to find him mostly in tact. His brown trousers contain a slice or two, his black tunic having some spots of dirt and mud. Other than that, though, he looks pristine as ever. Her heart clenches as she meets the bright green eyes of her life long friend, trying to find any hint of the person she used to play with in the forests surrounding her clan’s home. He brushes a hand through his dirty blond locks casually, like he has all the time in the world. Her grip around her staff tightens minutely as he pauses just outside the barrier of her circle, his eyes taking in the sigils curiously. “So, you are actually going to go through with it,” he mutters, his baritone voice lowered.

“What choice have you given us?” she retorts.

His eyes snap back to hers. “I gave you plenty of choices, Rhiannon. You refuse to see reason.”

She scoffs. “You accuse me of having no reason? You are even blinder than I thought, old friend.”

His lips twitch upwards slightly, his eyes warming a touch. “I wish you would not do this,” he mutters quietly. “The price is not worth their lives.”

She remains silent, staring at him with nothing but cold hatred. He forced her hand. His actions made it so this was the only way to save both races from complete annihilation. The humans continue to slaughter monsters with no regard and monsters have had no choice but to fight back in the only way they can. Magic is supposed to build and protect, make things better for the people. But now it has become a weapon designed to destroy. She is only grateful that humans cannot use the element any longer. Over the centuries, magic has faded to almost nothing with the human genome and the only ones able to wield it are those with the strongest souls of virtue. The Mages of Seven Souls. After this day, magic will forever be erased from humanity.

The silence stretches longer. Zachariah takes in a heavy breath, looping his thumbs around his leather belt as his eyes dart to the side. “You are only making it harder for them,” he mutters, his eyes staring at something she can’t see.

She swallows thickly, her guilt choking her voice for a brief moment. “It will save them.”

He shrugs, almost like he doesn’t care either way. She knows that’s a lie. A sudden piercing horn echoes in the distance, through the thick trees and scattering birds and wildlife in every direction. The signal. Pressing her staff back into the ground, she levers herself back up to stand in front of her adversary. Her purple eyes, still engulfed in magic flame, stare back at him in defiance. “Again, you cannot stop me, Zachariah,” she tells him, lifting her staff a few inches from the ground. “I have made peace with my crimes. I hope you will be able to in time, as well.”

An eyebrow shoots up in a look of mocking reproach. “The great Rhiannon admitting to committing a crime? The world _must_ be ending.”

She slams her staff back into the ground. As the wood makes contact, green light shoots from the perimeter of the circle straight up to the sky in a blinding glare that forces the man to stumble back several paces from her. She can feel her soul beat against her ribcage as she supplies power and magic into the circle around her. She looks up toward the sky, keeping her soul confined inside her chest for the time being. It takes a moment, but she is able to find the other six colors shooting into the sky to match hers, equidistant from her around the mountain. The seven colors of the rainbow look striking against the darkening sky, the sun finally slipping down towards the horizon. The rushing energy around her drowns out any and all noise to her ears. Otherwise, she wouldn’t doubt that she would hear alarmed cries within the forest as the humans hunt the monsters toward the mountain. Unbeknownst to the humans, they had actually been helping the mages in their task and she sends a silent prayer of thanks for the ignorance of humans.

“Rhiannon!” Zachariah shouts outside her circle, his face finally showing all the rage and frustration that he had hidden from her before.

She spares him no more than a glance. She will not let the betrayer distract her now. Cupping her hand in front of her sternum, she pulls her soul out of her chest and lets it float in front of her. The emerald heart spins lazily as she stares in awe. She was four when her soul was first summoned by her previous master and the former Mage of Kindness. He had been looking for his apprentice within the Kinnear clan. Hers was the brightest soul out of the six children presented to him. Just as that first time, she is struck at the culmination of her very being floating right in front of her, it’s color bright and pulsing with a light cadence to match the heartbeat still in her chest. She takes in a shaky breath, immediately muttering a silent apology to the soul in front of her for what it is about to endure.

“You are a fool!” Zachariah screams. She spares him one final glance—whether out of remorse or regret, she is not entirely sure. His hair is whipping around his face, clothes straining against his muscular form from the winds caused by the energy of the activated circle. “It will only delay the inevitable, Rhiannon! My way would at least be merciful!”

“Your mercy is a falsity,” she states, her voice calm amidst the raging energy about her. “Kindness has always been outside your understanding, Zachariah. And for that, I am sorry.”

His teeth bare at her and she can only assume he is growling in frustration. But she spares no more time on him, focusing her attention back on the floating soul in front of her. In order to complete the spell, it will require all of her attention and care. And everything that she has to offer. She glances up at the other colored pillars of light and notices each one of them pulse as the other mages insert their souls into the magic. Tears reappear in her eyes and this time, she does not force them away. “I am sorry, my friends,” she whispers. Cupping the bottom of her own soul, she slowly guides it to insert it into the power conduit of the spell.

It's only a foot away when something red crashes into her heart. She screams as searing agony races through her body. She collapses to her knees, the spell faltering around her as she struggles to keep her staff inserted in the ground as she writhes in her spot, watching the red aura around her soul rub it in painful strokes. She watches, helpless, as a piece of that red merges into her soul entirely, making her spine bow in renewed pain. Miraculously, the red aura fades away into nothing and her soul doesn’t splinter. She’s left braced against the ground, one hand still gripping her staff in a death grip as she pants into the dirt. Fresh sweat falls from her chin onto the tramped grass. When she feels like she has a handle on her soul and breathing, she looks up to find Zachariah crouching in front of her, still outside her circle, with a sadistic smirk twisting his lips. “What did you do?” she rasps.

“You’re right in that I cannot stop this spell,” he states, his smirk not lessening in its intensity. “But I can make it so you are forced to watch the consequences of your actions.” He stands fully as she stares at him in confusion, her mind a muddle of unfocused thoughts. “Goodbye, Rhiannon.” He spins on his heel and disappears back into the trees, melting into the shadows effortlessly.

She stares at the spot he disappeared for several moments, waiting for her heart to calm beneath her ribs. When she feels she can finally stand without her knees threatening to buckle under her, she does so. She brings her soul back to her probing eyes, looking for whatever it was that Zachariah did to her. It continues to spin lazily in front of her, still a vibrant green. No mark shows on it indicating damage or a change in her stats. What in the world did he do, then?

She clenches her jaw and shakes her head. It doesn’t matter. What matters is completing this spell. Without further preamble, she guides her soul back to the power conduit, feeling it fit snugly within the sigils and commands of the circle around her. A pulse shoots through the light indicating the acceptance of the power signature. She swallows the thick lump in her throat and looks up at the sky one last time, picking out the few stars starting to shine within the dark blues of the darkening sky. Her eyes trail to the six other pillars of colored light, noticing how each one pulses similar to her own. She waits the allotted amount of time before raising her staff once again. She whispers one more apology—to the monsters, to the humans, to her friends, family, to herself—then quickly brings the conduit of her power down hard on her soul.

It cracks and pain is all she knows.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Year 2015

 

She snaps awake, her heart pounding out of her chest and her breaths ragged as she stares blankly up at her ceiling. Her soul thrums uncomfortably in her chest and she can’t help but knead her sternum lightly, trying to comfort the feeling in her chest even though that is something that can’t happen. Not anymore anyway.

  
She sits up slowly, passing her hand over her face tiredly as her breathing finally evens out. ‘ _Haven’t dreamed about that in a while,’_ she can’t help but think as she continues to breathe evenly in a small attempt to calm her racing heart. She drops her hand back to her lap and looks around her darkened room. A quick glance at the dim red numbers on her clock prove that it is way too early for her to be awake, but late enough that she knows going back to sleep will be worthless. She flops back onto her back, draping her arm over her eyes and groaning in irritation. Why did she have to dream of that now? It’s been _years_.

  
A clattering of claws on the hardwood floor echoes through her room before the end of the bed dips as a rather large being jumps onto her duvet. She doesn’t remove her arm as a wet and cold nose pokes the side of her face that is visible outside of her arm, a small whine echoing in the creature’s throat when she doesn’t respond. A large weight flops onto her stomach, making her grunt and lower her arm in mild amusement. “Hey, girl,” she greets lightly, ruffling her dog’s floppy ears playfully. “Guess you heard me, huh? Sorry to wake you up.”

  
Cleo—short for Cleopatra—tilts her head into her scratching fingers and Rhona can’t help but giggle at the insistence of her friend. She continues to scratch her dog’s ears lazily, her eyes focusing back on the dark ceiling above her head as Cleo rests her head on her chest. She’s trying her best not to think about the dream that woke her up and instead focus on the day ahead of her. It’s Friday, thank God, so she at least has the weekend to look forward to. However, her weekend’s mostly consist of grading homework and trying to make out the rather illegible handwriting of fifth graders, so it’s a little silly to think that her current weekend is going to be any different. But the weatherman did promise good summer weather, so she should probably just take her file of grading to the park, let Cleo run around unhindered for a while. And it would be a good idea to get out into the sun herself. After all, she hardly leaves her house anymore and that’s just a little pathetic.

  
She sighs heavily, her heart finally beating comfortably in her chest as she shakes off the last effects of the dream that had plagued her as she distracts herself with the mundaneness of modern life. Her eyes flick back to her dog—still lying on her chest and enjoying her scratching far more than should be legal—and grumbles lightly. “Well, if I’m not going back to sleep, maybe I should just get up and get an early start, huh girl?” she asks Cleo with a raised eyebrow.

  
Cleo’s tongue lolls out in what can only be a dog smile and makes Rhona laugh lightly. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” she mutters, ruffling Cleo’s ears before pushing the heavy dog off her chest and stomach and flipping the duvet off. Cleo bounds off the bed and waits for her to climb to her feet before shooting out of the room like a bat out of hell. Rhona shakes her head fondly, stretching her arms above her head and hearing that satisfying popping sound to her joints before following her dog’s lead. She walks through the silent home in the dark, down the stairs, and through to the kitchen, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. She pauses in front of the coffee machine and presses the buttons to get it running. Cleo is sitting patiently in front of her empty food bowl, her mismatched eyes staring up at Rhona with a clear message of ‘ _feed me’._ As the coffee machine warms up, she walks over to the bag of dog food and scoops out a healthy amount for Cleo. She promptly starts woofing it down while Rhona exits the kitchen again to get started on her morning routine.

  
She sits under the hot stream of water in her shower, letting the high pressure drill into the tense muscles of her back and relax her further so she can better mentally prepare herself for the day ahead. Rhona loves her job as a teacher—really, she does—but her kids have been demanding more of her monster stories as of late. It’s been a long time since she’s had a group of kids so interested in those old stories, but a part of her can’t help but feel ecstatic that they are. That’s probably what prompted her dream last night. Nearly every day, reading time has been dominated by her telling her class about the monsters that inhabit Mount Ebott and the older stories where they actually walked among humans. It’s always a joy to see their little faces alight with fascination and wonder. She may be a teacher and have to make sure they learn the state-decided knowledge, but she’ll be damned if any of them leave her classroom and not have plenty imagination to help them too.

  
Although, their demands have been growing more and more and it’s starting to cut into her other lessons too. She can’t really blame them all. After all, since Frisk went missing, they all have decided that the little one had gone to Mount Ebott and is now living with the monsters.

  
Rhona bites her lip, thinking on her young student with a strong pang of worry. Frisk held a special place in her heart. All teachers have a… well, a special student that they all adore. She hesitates to use the word “favorite” but it fits. Frisk was just a shy little kid, her mute handicap making it hard for them to talk to the other students, but they were fiercely intelligent with the most unconfrontational spirit Rhona’s seen in a child in a very long time. She knows that Frisk’s home life wasn’t the best. She doesn’t know if abuse was involved, but a teacher knows when a child doesn’t get attention at home. So, Rhona found herself spending extra attention on her student during breaks and recess to make up for the lack of affection she was getting at home. She thought it was working well: Frisk was opening up to the other students, teaching a few of them to sign simple things, and smiling more often.

  
But, then they disappeared.

  
It’s been a handful of months now and the rest of her class has decided that they had gone to Mount Ebott to live with the monsters no matter how much her and the other teachers insist they probably just… moved away or was transferred to a different school. However, the school administration never received word about them transferring and when it became impossible to reach the family, the authorities had to step in. Their parents were still living at Frisk’s listed resident. With no idea where their child was.

  
Rhona shudders as she steps out of the shower and begins the task of drying and clothing herself. How it’s even possible for them to not even notice their child is missing is beyond her. She notices when any child is missing from her classroom and she has to monitor twenty-eight of them, plus the thirty kids in the room next to hers. The parents were questioned within an inch of their lives, from her understanding, but when it became clear that they truly had no idea what happened to their child, they were charged with child endangerment and neglect by the state. But with no body and no proof of true abuse, that’s really all state can charge them. And Frisk is still missing.

  
She sighs as she slips on the modest, black-and-white polka dot dress, adjusting the skirt so it will fall correctly around her legs. With no leads and really no idea of what to do, the search for them went cold a couple months ago. She even suggested they should check the mountain, but even adults are cautious about Mount Ebott. She knows the police did a pass over the peak with a helicopter but found nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, with the thick foliage and the forest still surrounding the base, that did little to help Rhona, but what else was there to be done?

  
Rhona slips back downstairs after she has all of her garments on appropriately, the smell of fresh coffee permeating the air and helping her mind to perk up with the promise of caffeine. Cleo has curled up under the dining room table, appearing to be snoozing, so she at least doesn’t need to let her dog outside yet. She’ll do that just before she leaves. A fresh cup of coffee in hand, she walks into the living room and plops down on the couch, turning on the TV for some mindless noise. Nothing noteworthy going on—well, nothing more than usual in the violent world—she gets back up to refill her cup and pull out her crockpot. She wanted to get her homemade spaghetti sauce cooking for her dinner tonight. She’s been craving Italian for days.

  
Setting up the sauce took up most of the remaining morning seeing as she makes it mostly from scratch using ingredients from her garden and it all offered an easy distraction from her thoughts as she started to put away all the spices and put the crockpot on a low heat. She sets the large base away from the edge of the counter and steps back, satisfied with her choice for dinner. She looks around the kitchen and is startled when she realizes the amount of sunlight shining in through the windows. It’s almost time for her to leave. She whistles to Cleo—who perks up immediately—and walks to the back door. Cleo follows readily and runs out to the screen door when Rhona props it open for her. She chuckles lightly, following her dog outside and picking up the leash staked to the ground. The leash is long and allows Cleo to wander all around her ample yard, but there’s no fence blocking her from running around the house. Once Cleo is secured to the leash, Rhona bends down to leave a quick kiss on the crown of her head in farewell (receiving a rather gross kiss on her cheek from the dog in return) before turning back into the house and gathering her things. Once she’s certain all the doors are locked, she quickly makes her way to her school, her eyes stuck on the large mountain reaching for the sky in the distance.

  
\- - -

  
“Alright, guys, don’t forget that you have your geography homework due first thing on Monday! Other than that, have a great weekend!”

  
She manages to get that out before the bell rings for end of day and her kids are off like bullets through the doorway. She sighs and smiles at their cheers and laughter, sagging against her desk with her arms crossed. Honestly, how she always manages to get the rambunctious group she will never understand. Straightening, she turns back to her whiteboard and begins the process of wiping off all of the dry erase markings she had made during her math lesson while her student teacher begins straightening the room around them. A couple of the quieter students remain loitering by their cubbies, still gathering their things and talking about what they’re going to do for the weekend, so Rhona leaves them alone as she moves back to her desk to rearrange the piles stacked there.

  
“Bye, Ms. Kinnear!”

  
“Bye, girls!” she replies with a bright smile to the kids running past her doorway. “And don’t run in the halls!”

  
Loud giggles reply but she does hear the slowing of their stomping feet on the tiled floor. She shakes her head fondly as her straggling students finally swing their backpacks onto their shoulders. “Have a good weekend, you three.”

  
She gets bright smiles. “Thanks, Ms. Kinnear!” They wave and depart finally.

  
Rhona slumps into her seat with a loud, relieved sigh, making her student assistant snicker loudly. “Rough day today,” she comments, moving the chairs back to their appropriate places around the room.

  
“No kidding,” Rhona agrees, rubbing the tension in the back of her neck. “Is it a full moon tonight? They all seemed more pent up than usual.”

  
“Nope, next week,” Christine answers readily. Rhona laughs. Christine—Ms. Maryland to the kids—has gotten into the habit of paying attention to the lunar cycle after she overheard all of the veteran teachers talking about how their kids seem to become more restless around the full moon. She’s actually trying to see if that’s a legitimate thing or not. Rhona has actually let the younger girl teach science because of that and the kids are actually benefiting from the switch. It’s clear that Christine’s interests lie with science and mathematics and she does best when teaching those subjects. Everyone has their areas of interest and excel in teaching those areas. No harm in letting her practice for when she has her own group.

  
“Must just be Friday, then,” Rhona decides, straightening and opening her side drawer to dig out the past week’s assignments for the weekend. She separates the folders into equal piles, one for her and one for Christine. Once that’s done, she stands and helps her student assistant reorganize the room for the janitorial staff that will come in later that night and weekend to clean up. They talk about nonsensical things, the odd student and what they can do to help improve scores before the test at the end of next week.

  
Once everything is cleaned up and sorted, they both take a seat at the desk, just relishing in the quiet hallway and room for a few minutes. Christine has her head tipped back, eyes shut. Rhona is focused on the chair right up front, just to the left of being right in front of her. Once again, her thoughts stray to the one student that used to sit there, forever worried about the little one. She just hopes that wherever Frisk had wandered off to, they're safe and happier than when they left.

  
That’s probably too much to hope for, but she can’t help it.

  
“Hey, Ms. Kinnear,” Christine calls softly, snapping her out of her thoughts quickly.

  
She gives the young woman a raised eyebrow. “You know you can call me Rhona when we’re alone, Christine,” she chastises softly, slipping into her teacher voice. It really is a hard habit to break. 

  
Christine laughs lightly. “Right, sorry. Rhona. I was wondering… Why do you tell the kids those stories about monsters and Mount Ebott? I mean, I know I’m new in this town and everything, but it really seems like most of the _adults_ don’t even like acknowledging that mountain exists. I was told by some locals that I was crazy for wanting to go hiking there!”

  
Rhona watches her for a heartbeat before shrugging half-heartedly. “I just always have. Nothing wrong with giving the kids a sense of wonder and magic before they’re shoved into the cruel reality of middle school.” She shakes her head, her eyes straying back to that lone desk once again. “I think it’s okay to nurture a sense of curiosity in them, especially in a town that constantly says they shouldn’t wonder or be curious about something like a mountain. Just because it has a bad rep doesn’t mean any of the rumors are true, you know?”

  
Christine nods slightly. “You’re still worried about Frisk.” It wasn’t a question.

  
“Yes,” she answers anyway, folding her hands in front of her mouth. “Frisk was an exceptionally curious child. I just hope they didn’t wander off somewhere they shouldn’t have gone.”

  
“You and me both.”

  
They fall into silence again, this time the air charged with worry rather than relaxation. It seems she really can’t keep her mind off of the child. She just… can’t help but feel like something was really important about Frisk and maybe that’s why she spent so much time with them during school hours and even after. She told Frisk more stories about monsters than any of the other students because the child was simply so curious about all of it.

  
Only now is she wondering if that was a good choice. Her eyes stray unwillingly back to the lone window in her room, finding the peak of the mountain above the buildings and trees that block the horizon. What is it about today that she can’t stop thinking about monsters, Ebott, and Frisk? Granted, a day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t think about one or more of those topics, but today is especially bad for some reason she can’t figure out.

  
She sighs, shaking her head and trying (again) to dispel these thoughts from her mind. There is no doubt in her mind that something is going on about this day—the very air vibrates with coming change—but trying to figure that out is a feat in futility if there ever was one. She focuses her eyes back on the young woman in front of her with a light grin. “Perhaps we should call it a night before one of the late-nighters try to suck us into some faculty thing or other?” she suggests.

  
Christine’s eyes light up. “Yes! Lets!”

  
Rhona chuckles, nudging one of the piles of homework towards her and standing up from her seat. “Good luck with that. I’ll be working on my half this weekend. I want to get them inputted into the system and passed back out by Tuesday. It will help to give me an idea of what we need to focus on before the test.”

  
Christine nods, standing up and tucking the files into the crook of her elbow. “No problem. I was just going to go to the park at some point and churn these out as fast as I can.”

  
Rhona tucks her own half of grading into her messenger bag, giving Christine a large smile. “Now that sounds like a good idea.”

  
“You could join me, if you want? I was thinking brunch time tomorrow.”

  
She nods as she heads towards the doorway, Christine following in her wake. “As long as nothing comes up, I’ll meet you there.”

  
“Okay!” Christine chirps. “Just text me if you need help or if something does come up!”

  
“Will do.”

  
The two part ways as Christine heads towards the parking lot to retrieve her car and Rhona walks out the closest door. There are some benefits to living only three blocks away from her school. This way she can save on gas. Of course, that’s not the only reason she picked that house. Well, not that she picked it. It’s belonged to her family for generations and happens to have the best view of the mountain that this town seems to be fearful of. Located on the last street in her neighborhood before opening up to fields and empty land, it’s also the one of the closest homes to the mountain that she can’t get her mind off of. The house has a rather large five acre property to it, located directly behind her backyard. She tends to just leave the space to its own devices rather than do anything with it. Considering it’s just her and Cleo, there really isn’t any point.

  
The house and property had been left to her by her parents after their death. She has thought many times over the years to move out and look for something else, but she can’t get herself to do it. Besides, having the privacy of such a large property to herself is nice.

  
She lets herself in through the front door and sighs as the cool air wraps around her. Kicking off her modest heels at the doorway, she drops her bag on one of the chairs as she walks through her house to the kitchen to check on the sauce, the smell of it wrapping around her. Steam lifts into the air as she lifts the lid off the crockpot to stir the sauce and make sure the edges aren’t burning. It’s perfect. Now all she has to do is make the noodles, cook some garlic bread, and her dinner will be all set.

  
Just as she’s replacing the lid, Cleo starts barking. Not necessarily unusual for any kind of dog, but Cleo doesn’t bark often. Not even at squirrels or bunnies that may cross her path. Usually she’ll just growl before trying to chase the rodent down. No, the only times she barks is when someone unfamiliar is close by their house.

  
Needless to say, Rhona immediately goes on high alert, walking into the adjoining dining room and looking out her patio doors. Cleo, still tied to the stake in the yard, is as far away from the house as she can get while still attached to her leash, barking at something that Rhona can’t make out. For all of the world, it looks like Cleo is barking at the mountain in the distance. _‘What is it about Mount Ebott today?’_ she thinks, feeling more annoyed the longer she watches her dog try and scare away whatever has spooked her.

  
Sudden movement in the distance catches her eye. The hair on the back of her neck stands to attention when she realizes Cleo really is barking at something, that something not being an animal. Her instincts on high alert now, she rips open the doorway and runs out into the yard. “Cleo!” she barks. Her name makes the dog calm right down and run to her side, shaking out her spotted fur. Rhona reaches down to pat her head lightly, still watching what looks to be multiple figures as they close the distance at the edge of her property. Now where in the world did they come from?

  
She looks down to Cleo for a brief moment before coming to a quick decision. “Stay here, girl,” she commands with a firm pat to her head. Cleo sits on the grass obediently. Rhona steps away from her labsky’s side, walking swiftly through the cold grass towards the figures steadily growing larger the closer they come to her. A part of her wonders why she doesn’t feel more alarmed at random strangers showing up on the edge of her property, but her instincts tell her they’re not to be afraid of. And her instincts have never steered her wrong before.

  
It takes several long minutes before she’s able to make out any details about the group in front of her. And once she is able to, she comes to a dead stop in the field, the tall grass tickling her legs as they sway in the wind. Her eyes grow wide as she stares at the group, nostalgia slamming into her gut and making bile rise up to her throat and a prickling she hasn’t felt in years tickle her eyes.

  
She focuses on the tallest individuals in the group first. A skeleton, probably standing close to seven feet tall, bounds forward in what can only be described as childish excitement, his permanent grin wide as his red cape drifts lightly behind him in the subtle wind. Directly behind him—and also looking like she’s chastising or at least talking to the skeleton monster in front of her—is a fish monster. She has long red hair tied into a high tail, blue scales covering her from head to foot, and large red gills on each side of her face. She looks casual in a pair of jeans and a muscle shirt, but it would be impossible to miss the strength of her muscles as she gestures wildly around her, her sharp-toothed grin hard to look away from. Trailing closely behind the two most exuberant monsters is a tall, broad-shouldered goat monster covered in white fur with large horns jutting out of his head and a golden goatee covering his face. He is draped in a purple cloak that hides most of his features, but it would be hard to miss the gentle smile on his face as he looks around, his eyes seeming to be transfixed on the sun.

  
In a huddled group behind those three are four more figures: another skeleton monster, this one shorter than the one in front, but no less impressive in height. He is wearing an outfit more muted than his compatriot—just black shorts, a white t-shirt and blue hoodie with a fur lining around the hood (and are those pink slippers on his feet?)—his grin lazy with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Next to him is a short lizard monster with glasses and a cute polka dot dress on. She holds her hands nervously in front of her and her eyes constantly dart to the fish monster in front of her, a red blush staining her cheeks. And on the other side of the shorter skeleton is another goat monster, this one obviously female based on her slighter frame. She also has horns protruding from her head, but they are smaller than the other’s. She is draped in a purple dress with an interesting symbol decorated in white on her breast. One of her hands is clutching that of a small child, but she can’t quite see them. They’re partially hidden behind the skeleton as they walk.

  
Monsters. A small group of them. But monsters all the same.

  
The group comes to a stuttering halt when they skeleton monster in the front finally notices her about thirty feet in front of her. She’s openly staring, but she can’t get herself to stop. Monsters. Right in front of her. She has to be dreaming. There is no way she is really seeing this, in reality, right now. Her eyes stray to the two goat monsters, both of whom are staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. Her heart clenches in her chest.

  
The silence stretches on for a long time before the skeleton in front seems to grow tired of it. “A human!” he shouts, gesturing to her with both arms. “Greetings, human! I am the Great Papyrus! And I am going to become your greatest friend! Nyeh heh heh!”

  
A sudden rush of color comes from beside the female goat monster and her eyes snap to the small child that has finally moved around the two monsters at her side. Rhona’s eyes grow even wider when she recognizes the mop of straight brown hair, characteristic blue and purple striped sweater, and large smile of the child running full tilt towards her. “Oh my god, Frisk!” she cries, dropping to her knees and opening her arms for the child.

  
Frisk crashes into her readily, her small arms wrapping around her neck and squeezing tight. Rhona has to fight the need to cry right then and there. But she hasn’t indulged in that in years. She’s not about to start now.

  
She cradles Frisk’s head to her chest. “I was so worried about you! Are you alright?” she’s quick to ask, pulling Frisk back a couple of inches to check the child over for any injuries.

  
Frisk smiles, dropping her hands from around her neck so she can sign easily. _I’m fine, Ms. Kinnear! I made lots of new friends! And I have a Mom now!_

  
“It seems the human child knows the human female,” the skeleton whispers to the fish monster beside him, holding his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide his observation. Too bad he doesn’t seem to realize that his voice carries all the way to her.

  
Rhona ignores the comment in favor of keeping her eyes on Frisk. She smiles and cups their cheeks. “I’m so happy, Frisk,” she admits.

  
The female goat monster steps forward then, capturing both of their attention as Frisk turns to face her. Rhona stands fully, keeping a hand on Frisk’s shoulder just to make sure they are still really here. The look the monster is giving her is one of pure disbelief coupled with great remorse. She comes to a stop maybe five paces away and Frisk rushes forward with a giggle to wrap her arms around the goat monster’s waist. She places a hand on top of their head but otherwise doesn’t take her eyes off of Rhona. Her eyes narrow slightly. “Rhiannon, is that you?”

  
A band inside of Rhona that she hadn’t known was there snaps at hearing that name. Without a chance of being able to fight them back this time, tears rush to her eyes and quickly spill over as her soul cries out in utter agony at seeing the familiar face of her old friend. “Hello, Toriel,” she greets, her voice shaky and distorted. “Long time no see, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think so far? Any suggestions, comments, feedback? lol Hope you're enjoying, anyway!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I still have no idea where exactly this will go. I have ideas... they're mostly half-formed though. I have to come up with two different timelines and fill them in. The past one is easy. The present one is not. So again, any ideas (especially for some fluff times with Frisk and the gang as all of my ideas are not so fluffy) are appreciated!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Year 999

 

“He picked me! He picked me!”

  
The child’s exuberant shouts echo through the trees to the waiting group playing within the stream. Their heads perk up as the branches of the trees rustle closest to them before the small girl rushes through, stumbling to a stop in front of them and just barely preventing herself from falling into the water. She lands on her knees heavily on the wet shore bank, still panting heavily from the long run, but her smile would be impossible to miss. “He picked me!” she announces again, her giggles of delight floating in the air and making the sunshine sparkle just a little brighter in the small clearing.

  
“Really, ReeRee?” an equally small child asks, her eyes large. Only, this child is a goat monster, an inhabitant of the town adjacent to her clan’s expansive lands. She digs her paws into her purple dress, clutching the fabric a couple inches higher as she skips to the human’s side. “You’re gonna be a… a, um…” Her eyebrows furrow while she tries to look for the right word.

  
“She’s gonna be a mage, dummy,” a slightly older boy interjects, giving the monster child a smug look that he could think of the word when she couldn’t.

  
“Be nice to Tori, Zach!” Rhiannon insists, rising back to her feet and giving the older boy a rather impressive glare for one who’s only four-years-old.

  
The last of their group takes a hesitant step towards the two, both of his skeletal hands held out to each of them warily and obviously trying to prevent them from fighting. Yet again. He doesn’t acknowledge the tension between the two, choosing instead to look directly at Rhiannon, the yellow orbs in his eye sockets shining brightly. “That’s great, Ree!” he congratulates. “You must have a very bright soul.”

  
Distracted by her friend’s praise, she drops the glare immediately and smiles wide. “Mmhmm!” she agrees, holding her hands behind her back and leaning back onto her heels. “That’s what Master Philo said! He said I had the brightest soul of all the other kids!”

  
“That’s so great, ReeRee!”

  
The skeleton child drops his hands back to his sides with an equally bright smile. Of course, considering he is always smiling, she can only see the increase in the slightly brighter shine in his eye sockets. “I can’t wait until I can see souls!” he admits. “I bet yours is really beautiful, Ree.”

  
She giggles. “Thanks, Gaster!” she chirps, skipping back over to Tori and taking one of her paws in her hand. “But I bet everyone has a beautiful soul!”

  
Zach rolls his green eyes, scoffing lightly. She pouts at his silent disagreement. However, she doesn’t want to make Tori feel more uncomfortable so she doesn’t press the older boy on the matter. They fight about one thing or another nearly every time they see each other and it always manages to make the soft-hearted monster nervous and anxious. Gaster is usually able to diffuse all of their fights with calm words and logic, but Rhiannon really doesn’t want to make her best friend feel uncomfortable. That would be cruel. Now if only Zach could understand that too.

  
Tori’s hand tightens around Rhiannon’s and the little girl turns her purple gaze onto her best friend, still grinning slightly. The goat-girl has her eyes focused on their clasped hands, her eyes slightly downcast, her floppy ears perching forward slightly in a small effort to hide her face. “What’s wrong, Tori?” Rhiannon asks, her excitement dissipating at her friend’s obvious distress.

  
Tori doesn’t answer for several long moments, the only sound in the clearing that of the gentle gurgle of the stream while the older boys watch on curiously. Finally, she seems to gather her courage around her as she squeezes Rhiannon’s hand again. “You’re going to leave now, aren’t you?”

  
The quiet question seems to reverberate in the air as the boys also seem to understand the full implication of Rhiannon’s new station within her clan. Gaster’s eye lights dim substantially until she can barely see them within the darkness of his eye sockets. Zach’s jaw is tight and he has his hands balled into fists at his side, but his green eyes are focused on the ground. She gives them all a strained grin, trying to be reassuring. “Well, yeah, I’ll have to leave soon,” she admits, her voice soft. But then she perks up quickly, her voice back at full volume. “But! That won’t happen for a long time! So I can still play!”

  
Tori and Gaster seem to perk up at that news too, giving her hesitant smiles. Zach seems to relax, his hands uncurling but he still keeps his gaze away from her. She knows better than to try and comfort the temperamental boy seeing as he lashes out at any kindness she tries to give him. She’s often wondered what kind of soul her friend has seeing as he doesn’t belong in any of the Virtue clans, so he could be any of the soul types. Or, even a combination! Her train of thought trails back to when Master Philo pulled her soul out from her body, the small emerald heart barely the size of her hand as it floated in front of her lazily. Maybe she’ll be able to learn that trick and find out soon? The thought fills her with excitement.

  
She reaches her free hand down to Tori’s paw and clutches it with both of her hands. “Come on, Tori! Let’s go hunt for some snails! Maybe your Mama will make us a pie if we find some good ones!”

  
The suggestion immediately makes the goat child brighten fully and she nods excitedly enough to make her ears flop. Giggling, the two girls run off into the trees without waiting for the boys to decide to join them or not, already seeking out their favorite snail hunting grounds. It doesn’t take much longer before the skeleton and human boy are chasing after them, calling out for them to slow down and wait up, but it’s far too much fun to run and make them chase after them.

 

\- - -

 

Master Philo is sitting at her family table when she returns home from Tori’s house that night.

  
She dips a respectful bow to the important mage, her Mama’s lessons taking form quickly. The older man smiles gently when she straightens again, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “There is no need to bow to me, child,” he tells her, his deep voice warm and inviting. “You are to be my apprentice and eventually successor. We are now equals.”

  
Rhiannon blinks, not entirely sure what everything he said meant. But she does understand that she doesn’t need to bow to him anymore. But, how will she show him the proper respect? He is an adult. Adults are to be respected and obeyed. And he’s a leader of her clan. That makes him an extra important adult. Bowing is proper and correct behavior to greet him.

  
“Rhiannon,” her Mama calls and she takes the out readily, rushing out of the room and into the kitchen. She finds her Mama bowed before the hearth, the kettle set over the flames boiling water for some tea.

  
“Yes, Mama?” she asks, stepping up to her mother’s side and offering some assistance to the older woman.

  
Her Mama smiles gently, patting her head in greeting. Pride still shines in her dark blue eyes, making Rhiannon feel even better even if it doesn’t feel like she did anything to receive her Mama’s pride. “Can you gather the cups for me and put them on the tray?” she asks. “Make sure to grab an extra for your Papa.”

  
She nods with a smile, running back to the cupboard. She has to use the step stool her Papa made for her in order to reach the cups and still she can only grab two things at a time. Gathering the cups and small plates for each one takes her four trips between the cupboard and the tray on the small table beside the hearth, but by the time she completes her task, the hot water has been poured into the tea kettle for steeping. Her mother rearranges the sugar and honey on the tray, pats her daughter’s head in thanks, then picks up the tray and heads back out to the dining room with a small command for Rhiannon to follow her.

  
When they reenter the room, her Papa is already seated across from Master Philo, his hands still caked in the dirt from the fields, his shoulders stooped in exhaustion. But he still sits in front of the clan’s mage, making sure to keep him entertained. Rhiannon rushes to him and he breaks away from his conversation to scoop her up with a bright smile. “There’s my girl!” he exclaims with a big belly laugh like he does every night. She giggles loudly as he tickles her sides while she squirms in his lap. Her mother places the tray on the center of the table, handing out the cups to everyone and pouring the tea.

  
“So, I heard through the rumor mill that something rather big happened today,” her Papa states, poking her sides again with a proud smile.

  
Rhiannon giggles, but doesn’t respond to her Papa’s prodding. She blushes lightly as she peeks at their guest. Master Philo seems to sense her hesitance and chuckles quietly, adding a couple scoops of sugar to his tea. “That can certainly be said,” he agrees, bowing his head to her Papa. “Rhiannon has the brightest soul out of all the children in the clan. She would have the best chance of being able to learn magic and learn the ways of Kindness.”

  
“Oh, well, she will not have to _learn_ kindness,” her Mama states, lowering herself into the remaining chair. “Rhiannon is already a nice girl to everyone she comes across, even monsters. You won’t find a friendlier child in the entire clan!”

  
Master Philo gives her a patient smile. “Of that I have no doubt, my lady.” His warm hazel eyes jump back to Rhiannon and he winks at her, making her giggle. “But I did not mean about the simple act of being nice to others. The ways of Kindness is a much harder path and is deeply steeped within the magic that she will learn. Her already kind and merciful nature will make her trainings easier, however.”

  
Her Papa’s expression sobers lightly as he stares at their guest. “You will have to forgive my ignorance, Master, but what is involved with this training? I hope you understand that I do not wish for my daughter to travel through the country at her young age.”

  
Master Philo bows his head in understanding, lowering his cup back to it’s saucer and setting it solidly on the table to fold his hands atop it. “Of course I would not insist Rhiannon’s removal of your care for her training. It is true that the role of a mage is a diverse one. It requires much travel between the clans of the country as well as the neighboring monster and human villages. However, considering Rhiannon is so young, I would keep her here and teach her the basics. The politics of the role would come later.”

  
“How long would she remain with us?” her Mama asks, her hands held tightly together and a slight pucker between her eyebrows that show her worry when she tries to hide it.

  
Master Philo pauses, looking right at Rhiannon. She straightens in her Papa’s lap under the man’s scrutiny, trying to make herself look bigger and seem older. She may not want to leave home, but she doesn’t want to show him that she’s a little scared. The farthest she’s been away from her clan’s lands is Gaster’s home village within the other neighboring monster village. The thought of going any farther than there is very scary. And she’s never been or seen any of the other clans even though she’s heard many rumors about the six other mages. That would be a little exciting. She wonders if they are just as nice as Master Philo.

  
The Master smiles. “I would like to take her around to the other clans and introduce her to the other mages and elders when she is no older than ten, although it would be more beneficial if it was a little sooner. While much of her training will be with me and me alone, there is still much she will need to learn from the others. Her training with the Boss Monsters can wait until her teenage years which is where the extensive travel occurs.”

  
“I get to meet the Boss Monsters?” she asks, her voice high with excitement as she leans forward.

  
“Rhiannon,” Mama reprimands her lightly with a stern look.

  
Master Philo holds his hand to her Mama with a gentle smile, letting her know it’s okay. He turns his eyes back to the eagerly waiting child, his smile growing just a touch wider. “Yes, you will meet the seven Boss Monsters.” His eyes narrow slightly with a little knowing smirk. “However, I have heard that you already know two of them.”

  
She nods, her exuberance bouncing her chestnut hair wildly about her head. “My best friend is Tori and she’s a goat monster and my other friend is a skeleton monster! His name is Wing Dings, but he prefers to go by Gaster because it doesn’t sound as funny. Tori’s Mama makes really good pie and she’s so big! Gaster’s Mama and Papa are really smart and they teach me so many things when I visit and—”

  
“Okay, okay,” her Papa laughs, holding up his hand in minor defeat as the other two adults chuckle along with him. “I think he understands, Ree.”

  
She sinks a little into her Papa’s lap, a bright blush staining her cheeks. “Sorry,” she mutters, casting her purple eyes to the floor.

  
“Do not be apologetic, child,” the Master says with a gentle smile. He ducks his head down a little to catch her gaze with his. His hazel eyes show nothing but reassurance if some amusement and it puts her at ease again. “Your exuberance is exactly what I was hoping for when I visited the children today. You will make a great mage.”

  
Her responding smile is shy, but her soul warms at the praise. Her Papa chuckles, muttering an agreement as he ruffles her hair. The adults continue to talk about the specifics of her training, but she tunes the rest of it out having lost interest almost immediately. She hops off her Papa’s lap and retreats to her room after asking her Mama for permission. Once there, she opens her window shutters and leans against the sill, staring up at the sky and the countless twinkling lights above her. She smiles, her excitement and hope for the future filling her up with warmth. She is certainly nervous—and a little scared—about becoming a mage. Only seven exist in the entire world! But to know that she has the chance to become the next is something she only imagined. Now that it’s becoming a reality…

  
It fills her with determination. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me way too long to write. I started this three different times before finally settling on this opening and I'm STILL not happy with it. *sigh* 'Tis the life of a writer, I suppose. I promise there is an actual plot to this. I'm trying to set up a couple different arc ideas I have (that are actually not different arcs but kind of are and I don't know what I'm doing) but it's just taking longer than I expected. *shrugs* I'm trying. Anywho, if any of you could do one thing for me? Can you tell me if any of the gang are out of character for me? Pretty please? I honestly can't tell and that's a MASSIVE pet peeve of mine if someone is OOC. I will love you for forever! ^_^ 
> 
> Well, that's all! I hope you enjoy!

2015

The evening has proven to be a lot longer than she ever expected it to be. 

Usually at this time of night, she’s cuddled in her king-sized bed with Cleo helping to keep her warm and a good book or grading in her hands, waiting for her eyes to refuse to stay open anymore. Even if it is a Friday night. But not this Friday night. No. She’s still seated at her dining room table, a cup of tea that she didn’t prepare in her hands, staring across the table at two of the people she thought she would never see again. 

As for the other unexpected persons… Well, they’re currently passed out in various states in her living room. She just has to turn around to see that rather impressive (and, admittedly, funny) picture. It wasn’t long after the others realized that their friend knew the random human woman they had come across before introductions were hastily made while Rhona attempted to shove all of her emotions back inside of her lest she cause an even bigger scene than she already had. Once she was sure she had the waterworks at bay entirely, she offered the ragtag group of monsters back to her house for dinner and was immediately besieged with proclamations of thanks and goodwill as they all charged to her modest house behind her. 

Of course, they were brought to a quick stop by Cleo, but that wasn’t shocking. Cleo requires a customary sniff and perusal of each new individual that crosses her path before allowing them into the house without a warning bark. She spent most of her attention on the two skeleton monsters and the fish woman but finally allowed all three to pass while Rhona kept a strong hold on her collar with her eyes rolled to the heavens. If the Powers That Be could stop trying her patience… 

Currently, her dog is curled in between the two skeleton monsters ( _’oh, what were their names again? Sans and Papyrus? Eh, sounds about right.’_ ), sleeping in perfect contentment at her situation. She knows better than to try and bite them. There’s a reason why Rhona never gave her dog bones as treats other than the fact that it just seems really silly. But because it would make her think too much of her long forgotten friends and she just can’t think about them on a daily basis. So, her dog has to content herself with squeaky toys and rope. Not that that doesn’t usually cause its own issues when her dog gets restless at three in the morning, but it’s better than nothing. 

Thinking of the two monsters in her living room causes her to change her position just enough to peer at them over her shoulder. The tall lanky skeleton is taking up one end of her couch, his head tipped back and his mouth open with rather large snores tumbling out of his throat. ( _’Wait, skeletons don’t have throats.’_ ) His brother has taken up the other end of the couch with his feet kicked up onto the coffee table, sleeping silently compared to Papyrus. Then again, it’s not a shock that the younger (she thinks) skeleton is just as loud of a sleeper as he is a talking one. Of course, it didn’t take long for her to realize that Papyrus is basically a giant puppy himself and just wants to help in any way he can. 

Her ruined kitchen is testament to that. 

While she can’t see them from her current angle, she can only assume Undyne and… Alphys, was it? Yeah, Alphys. They must be curled on the floor in front of the couch in the space between the two brothers. She can just see the end of a yellow tail poking out from the side of the couch underneath Sans’s legs. Rhona can only assume the two are also asleep given there’s no longer any stuttering commentary over the anime they had put on from her Netflix selection (admittedly not as good as the selection on Hulu, but she’s yet to hook up her Blue-Ray player with her account). Undyne must also be out because her boisterous laughter has finally silenced and no longer making her jump every few moments at the rather loud noise. 

She acts just like her mother, really. 

Rounding them out is Frisk, curled up into a ball on the matching loveseat with a plush purple blanket thrown over their small body. They were the first to fall asleep from the group and Rhona was quick to get her covered up just to have something to do. After stepping into her house, she basically wasn’t allowed to do a single thing for her guests. That really shouldn’t irk her as much as it does, but she’s the host, damnit. She should at least have been able to make—well, finish—dinner for them all! But no. Papyrus and Undyne were quick to jump into the kitchen and do all of that themselves with Tori keeping a strong hold on her shoulder to keep her in the comfort of her armchair while Frisk supervised the two rather rambunctious monsters from destroying or burning her house down. Admittedly, the two did a rather good job but her kitchen is still a huge disaster with splotches of spaghetti sauce and random herbs covering her counters, noodles stuck to her walls and refrigerator, and pans, pots, utensils, and the like all out of order. How it is Tori managed to make tea in that mess must of been a feat of magic. 

Dinner was a loud affair in itself with all the monsters and Frisk gathered around her unused dining table, talking about plans of the future and goals and new dreams with the addition of puns, annoyed groans, and small giggles of delight here and there. Rhona stayed out of the conversation, barely touching her food as her eyes remained plastered on Tori and Asgore, pointedly sitting as far as they could get from each other. Rhona may not be versed in the ways of love or flirtation, but she knows something is up with these two. There’s only so many cold stares and nervous chuckles and stammering she has to witness for her to understand there’s some bad blood between the two former love birds. She decided to keep her mind on that particular inquiry rather than worry about everything else. 

The topic quickly focused on anime seeing as Alphys is quite the nerd and completely obsessed with Mew Mew Kissy Cutie. Rhona couldn’t help but snort lightly and chuckle at that revelation. Confronted with two rather curious stares from the women at the table, she quickly explained that if Alphys really liked that anime then she had to watch Sailor Moon (original series and revamp) and Madoka Magica. Watching the scientist’s eyes light up and practically become stars behind her round glasses only made Rhona’s smile grow wider as she offered her TV, Netlix account, and living room to any who wanted to give the shows a shot. 

Four hours later and the result is that five out of the seven of her guests are passed out in her living room with the two rulers of monster kind sitting with her at the dining room table with her, all nursing tea and looking rather seriously at her. 

Rhona watches the lights of the TV bounce off the forms of her guests for a few more minutes before sighing and turning back to face her old friends, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her exhaustion that she’s held for far too long. She keeps her purple eyes focused on the amber liquid in her #1 Teacher mug an old student got her for Christmas one year, twisting the ceramic between her palms listlessly. “I’m sorry I’m proving to be such a lousy host,” she says, breaking the silence with a quiet murmur. No need to wake the other occupants. Or ruin their mood. 

“There are many things you are, ReeRee,” Tori states, her voice as light and kind as she remembers but containing a weight of sadness that never used to exist in her friend’s motherly voice. “But a lousy host has never been one of them.” 

“Rhona,” she corrects quietly. When the air turns slightly confused, she finally lifts her gaze to the two sitting across from each other, both of their bronze gazes staring only at her, the confusion clear on their furry faces. She swallows and wets her lips nervously. “My name is Rhona now. I haven’t gone by… _that_ name in a very long time.” 

The two monarchs share a quick glance before Tori seems to remember that she’s supposed to be angry with her husband and gives him cool eyes instead. Rhona’s positive the King is blushing under his fur if only she could actually see it. Her eyes dart between the two, not bothering to hide her confusion. However, she doesn’t bother asking the questions on the tip of her tongue. Now is hardly the time to try and dig into her childhood friend’s love life. There are far more pressing matters at hand. 

“So, what’s the plan now?” she asks, her eyes falling back to the amber liquid in her cup. “I honestly expected to see more monsters than you six when the barrier was finally destroyed. You have your freedom now. Where are the other monsters?” 

Asgore heaves a heavy sigh. The sound makes her look back up at the large monster only to see his shoulders slumped heavily and his eyes downcast as well. “I asked everyone to remain in the Underground until we had the opportunity to meet with the Human government. There is no need to cause a panic amongst them all.” 

“Re—Rhona,” Tori calls slightly, offering an apologetic smile at her slight stumble before turning serious again. “What is the… state of things now?” 

Rhona holds the woman’s gaze, thinking that question over. On the surface, it does not seem like such a large question. But given all of their history, all that they have been through together and separately—most of which each party knows nothing of the other—Rhona is well aware the question means much more than just what the world is like now. A small sigh escapes her lungs before she can think to stop it. She lifts her mug to her lips to take a quick sip of the lukewarm tea in an effort to moisten her mouth so she can give them both an honest and true answer. Lowering the cup back to the wood, she finally opens her mouth to respond. “I will not claim that everything is peaceful. Humans are busy fighting and warring with each other in wars spread out in different places on the planet. We can’t even get along with ourselves.” She shakes her head, purple eyes falling to the wood of the table. “Humans no longer believe in the actual existence of monsters. It’s been almost a thousand years since…” She doesn’t finish that sentence, emotion choking her words. “Monsters have basically fallen to myth and scapegoats for horror stories. I don’t believe the revelation that you all are real is going to go over well.” 

Toriel and Asgore share another meaningful look. “What do you suggest we do, Rhona?” Asgore asks. 

She does her best to hide her mild panic from them, not quite able to suppress the widening of her eyes. “What do you mean, what do I suggest? I’m not an authority on any of this.” 

She receives two almost identical expressions of surprise. Toriel reaches over and grasps her hand. Rhona resists the need to squeeze the warm fur covering her fingers, keeping her grip loose. “Are you not still a Mage, my friend? The mages always served as advisers to the human rulers.” 

Rhona snorts, rolling her eyes. “I am no mage, Toriel. I haven’t been for centuries. I am nothing more than an elementary school teacher now. No respectable governing official is going to listen to me. Hell, I can’t even get the PTA to listen to me half the time.” She ignores the returned expressions of confusion at her mention of the rather irritating group of officials that try to dictate rules at her school. No point in getting worked up over that nonsense when she has this one to deal with. She turns her eyes to the larger monster in front of her. “I recommend getting in contact with the President of this nation. I can help with that, but that’s all I can do.” 

He tips his head to the side slightly, the dim lights of the chandelier overhead reflecting off his impressive horns. _‘Have they always been that large?’_ she wonders tiredly. “How are you able to get in contact with this… president?” he asks. “I assume he is an important figure.” 

She nods. “Very important. He will be able to assist you all.” She pauses for a brief moment, trying to think of a concise way to answer his first question. “As for how I can get in contact with him… Well, I continued to keep in touch with the leaders of the human tribes after the wars until I discovered what happened to me. I admit that I… fell off the map for a while until I could come to turns with my sudden immortality. But the leaders never forgot about me and advised each successor of my eventual return. That ended up proving to be beneficial. The current President knows that I and the Monster race exists. But there has been no reason for him to ever consult with me nor any president before him, nor has there been a reason for me to contact them. But I will this time.” 

Asgore bows his head in understanding. “I will gladly accept that assistance, Rhona. I am not unaware that the road to peace between our two races is going to be a long one, but it must begin somewhere.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes jumping over her shoulder and softening. “Frisk has agreed to assist us in our endeavors. I think that will help."

Before she can question in what way Frisk is going to help them—the child really needs to enroll back in school, in her humble opinion—Toriel’s hand tightens around hers. “Is this truly immortality?” the softer monster asks. 

Rhona’s jaw tightens, that old anger twisting her gut once again. It’s been nearly a thousand years and she still hasn’t accepted what happened to her. She nods stiffly. “Yes. I was cursed with immortality just before the barrier was erected. The caster wished for me to pay witness to the consequences of my actions.” 

“Who…?” 

“Do you really have to ask, Toriel?” 

Her eyes shut tiredly in response. Her lack of a verbal acknowledgment is answer enough. All three of them know who did this to her. 

Rhona’s eyes dart to the patio doors across the long table from her and the pitch-blackness outside that only reflects the vision of the room back at her. “Look, you guys, we can talk more in the morning. It’s awfully late and I’m sure you both are exhausted. I just want to ask one more question and then I’ll get you all set up in some beds.” 

“You do not have to do that, my friend,” Tori is quick to state, shaking her head softly. 

Rhona rolls her eyes. “Please. I want to. It’s the least I can do for you all.” 

Asgore nods, knowing better than to fight her on this. “What did you wish to ask?” 

Her eyes dart between them, her heart thudding a little harder in apprehension. It may have taken her an hour to come to the realization as she sat somewhat dumbly in her armchair after her current guests piled into her home, but it has weighed heavily on her mind since. Someone is missing from their group. “Where’s Gaster?” 

Her eyes continue to bounce between them as they take in her question. A heartbeat passes before she receives two expressions containing matching furrowed eyebrows and utter confusion in their bronze eyes. “Gaster?” Asgore echoes. 

The apprehension in her heart thrums a little louder. “W.D. Gaster?” she clarifies quietly. “Some would call him Dings but we’d call him G. Don’t you guys remember?” 

They share another look before they shake their heads. Toriel turns to face her fully, her expression changing to that of motherly concern. “Are you certain you are remembering their name clearly, my friend? A thousand years is a long enough time to mix names and events up entirely.” 

Rhona stares into her friend’s eyes as the incomprehension only grows. While Tori’s claim is certainly true, that doesn’t mean that her mind isn’t as sharp as it always has been. Gaster was a dear friend of hers and the royal family. Hell, he was all set to become the royal scientist when the war broke out and Asgore was one of his best friends! She hasn’t forgotten or mixed that up! But as she continues to watch the two monsters, a thick lump of dread starts to settle into her stomach. They don’t know what she’s talking about. Which means something happened to him in the Underground that they—two of the strongest Boss Monsters in current existence—can’t even remember him. 

Because her guilt couldn’t weight any heavier on her shoulders. 

She shakes her head with a small grin, nothing more than a slight upturning of the corners of her mouth. “Never mind. It’s not important.” She pushes away from the table with a slight scrape on the floor from the legs of her chair. “Come on, I’ll show you guys to a room. Hopefully I’ll be able to get the others to a room quietly as well.” 

Thankfully, they don’t fight her as she waves the topic off. They quickly agree to her sudden hospitality and stand with her. Asgore makes a revolution around the table to push in all the chairs and collect the empty coffee mugs to deposit them in the kitchen sink. Rhona mentally sighs at the Herculian task ahead of her with cleaning her kitchen tomorrow. Toriel follows her into the living room to pick up Frisk off the love seat. The child doesn’t even stir at the sudden shift, sleeping peacefully against her goatmom’s shoulder. Rhona smiles at the scene. Toriel was born to be a mom. It’s something she’s known since they were kids themselves. It warms her heart to see her play the part so well with her treasured student who was once in desperate need of attention and affection. 

However, there’s a small part of her that frets over the potential custody battle that is bound to break out once humans realize that Frisk is in the care of a monster. She shakes that thought away. 

Once Asgore has joined them, she leads them upstairs. She opens the door to her master bedroom and helps Tori tuck Frisk into the massive bed. It becomes abundantly obvious that Tori has no intention on spending the night with her husband ( _’okay, are they even still married?’_ ) so Rhona leads him to the first of her three guest bedrooms. He gives her a warm smile and bow of the head in thanks when she leads him into the smaller room with a queen size bed. Hopefully it will be big enough for him. Once his door is shut, she treks back downstairs to try and nudge the other occupants of the room to a bedroom. 

Undyne and Alphys took separate rooms. Undyne decided to take the guest bedroom in her basement, claiming she liked the cold damp air down there. Once that was decided, Alphys received the last room upstairs graciously and with many stuttering thanks for using her Netflix account and apologies for falling asleep. Rhona only waved her off. Once she saw Undyne safely (and without destroying anything) down to the last guest bedroom, she realized something. 

She still has two more guests and no more bedrooms to offer them. 

As she climbs the stairs back up to the main level of her house, she comes to a quick decision and makes a detour back to the linen closet at the top level. Papyrus is tall, but he will be able to fit her couch quite comfortably. And Sans will probably be able to fit her love seat, although there’s no doubt that he’ll also hang off the side of it. He’s about her height—five feet six inches—and if she can’t lay across it, he certainly won’t. But, skeleton monsters aren’t exactly wide so maybe they can share the couch? It’d be more comfortable than the love seat at least. 

She walks back into her living room to find only one skeleton monster still asleep on the couch. A small noise echoes from her kitchen so she quickly relaxes at the realization of where Sans had wandered off to. Papyrus is still asleep by some miracle. She can’t help but shake her head with a small smile. Sleeps just as hard as Frisk then. She quietly walks over to him, nudging a thicker and fluffier pillow into the end of the couch before reaching up and shaking his shoulder a little. He snorts and startles slightly but at her calm words and gentle nudging, he quickly relaxes and falls into position laying fully against the couch cushions. She drapes a thick, muted orange blanket over him as he shifts for a brief moment before falling back to sleep fully. She watches him for a brief moment, thinking the only way this scene would be cuter is if she had a stuffed teddy bear for him to cuddle with. 

She takes a step back and gathers the last blanket and pillow up. She turns to face the doorway leading into the dining room and, subsequently, the kitchen only to jump a foot in the air. She mutters a silent curse while placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart as the last awake member of this ragtag group watches her. Sans is leaning against the archway to her dining room casually, hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue hoodie, a lazy smile stretching his face. That seems to be his default expression, she’s noticed. 

“Hey, bud, didn’t mean to frighten ya.” 

She shakes her head with a slight sigh. “It’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting you to be standing there is all.” She’s careful to keep her voice down, not wanting to wake Papyrus. “Um, I don’t really have another room for you to sleep in but you’re more than welcome to take the love seat or the armchair. Or the other end of the couch if you think you’ll fit.” 

He shrugs. “Anywhere’s fine with me.” 

She nods. She walks over to him, again being careful not to make too much noise for Papyrus’s sake, and hands him the blanket and pillow. He takes them from her easily, the white orbs of his eyes not once leaving her face. She can’t help feeling like he’s measuring her up somehow. She offers him a slight grin. “Well, have a good night, Sans.” 

She doesn’t wait for him to respond before she spins on her heel and starts heading towards the stairs again. There’s a moment of silence before he finally responds. “So, you knew the old man, huh?” 

She comes to a complete stop, her mind reeling. She turns to look over her shoulder at him. His eyes are still on her, but he hasn’t moved from the archway. “What?” 

“Gaster,” he answers simply. “You knew him?” 

She nods. “Yes. We were childhood friends.” 

“Is that so?” 

She turns around fully to face him, her expression earnest. “What happened to him?” 

It’s his turn to look away, his eye orbs darting to the side. His smile seems to be a little more strained than it was a moment ago. “An accident,” he answers. “You could say it was a situation he couldn’t a-void.” 

She cocks her head to the side in mild confusion. An accident? Does that mean he’s…? Her heart clenches in her chest and she has to look away from him for a moment so she could take the time to lecture her tears to remain in their proper place. Today’s just been an emotional overdrive and her mind is screaming for some form of relief. Once she thinks she has a strong handle on her faltering emotions again, she returns her attention back to the grinning monster across the room. He seems to be focused on Papyrus, his eye lights dimmer than they were a minute ago. “Why don’t they remember him?” she asks, his white pupils jumping back to her. 

“It’s complicated, kid.” 

“I don’t mind complicated.” 

The two stare at each other for a long moment, testing each other’s wills. They’re both startled out of their staring match at a particularly large snort from Papyrus, followed by a drawn out “Nyyeeeeehhhhh” of an exhaled breath. Sans expression grows fond as he focuses on his brother. Rhona turns slightly and waves her hand for him to follow her. “Let’s talk somewhere else,” she offers. 

She doesn’t wait for him to follow her. After all, it’s entirely up to him if he even wants to follow her in the first place. He doesn’t know her and he owes her absolutely nothing. She climbs back up the stairs and stops just long enough to grab another blanket. She pats Cleo’s head as she walks down the hallway. Her dog gives her a tired blink before burying her face back into her paws. At the end of the hall is one lone window outside. She pulls it up and waits for a brief moment to make sure it will stay in place. With practiced ease, she maneuvers her body through the smaller than comfortable opening onto the slanted roof just below it that covers the front porch of her house. Gathering the loose skirt of her dress—which she still hasn’t changed out of— close to her, she climbs up the roof and jumps to the taller one connected to it. A few more steps and she’s perched on the slight slant, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She sighs and takes in the perfect view around her and the quiet nightlife as it chirps into the still cold air. 

To her left, the town and distant city shine, light posts bright in the absolute blackness of the night. The odd head and tail lights of cars illuminate the dark in white and red, but otherwise her town is quiet as only a small town can be on a Friday night. The city is far enough that she can’t make out details other than the skyscrapers still illuminated from within by workers or maintenance crews. To her right lies the darkness of her lands with the white peak of Mount Ebott reflecting the light of the half-quarter moon back to space. Her fields are dancing with life though from the lightning bugs that have finally come out to speckle the late spring night with light and magic. And directly overhead is the absolute darkness of space mingled with millions upon millions of colored specks of light creating pictures and mosaics in the sky. 

It takes longer than she would like to admit to realize that Sans had actually followed her here. She happens to catch a brief movement out of the corner of her eye. When she turned to see what it was, she finds Sans standing just outside the window she had crawled out of, his head tipped back to the stars. She can’t see his face from her current angle, but she also doesn’t want to disturb his moment. 

He’s probably never seen the stars before. He deserves a moment, or a dozen, to take it all in. It can be a little overwhelming to those who have never seen it before. 

She turns her own gaze back up to the heavens and waits patiently for him to join her side. She waits for maybe ten minutes before the familiar sound of footsteps and crunching of her roof tiles reaches her ears. She grins up at him as he lowers himself down to sit beside her. “Thanks for joining me.” 

He chuckles quietly. “Gotta admit, you left me curious.” 

She nods, still grinning. His eye orbs dart back up to the sky distractedly and she looks back up with him. The silence stretches between the two of them again, this time far more comfortably. A falling star streaks across the sky, eliciting a small intake of breath from Sans. She giggles lightly. “Quick, make a wish,” she tells him. 

He hums. “’Fraid it already came true, kid.” 

She smiles at the simple truth of that, but her soul shudders as guilt slams back into her. It’s all her fault that this is the first time he’s seeing this. It’s all her fault that she locked him and all of them under the ground, cut them off from the sky and the stars. It’s all her fault that so many of them had to… had to… 

It’s all her fault that Gaster is gone. 

Sans seems to notice her sudden turn in emotion but doesn’t say anything about it. She wets her lips nervously and brings her knees up to her chest so she can hold them to her. “I know you owe me nothing,” she starts, her voice a whisper to match the volume of the wind around them. “You don’t know me and it would be foolish of you to trust me. I’m a human, after all. But will you please tell me what happened to Gaster? I mean it when I say he was a genuine and true friend of mine.” 

She peeks up at him out of the corner of her eye to find him focused on her out of the corner of his. “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.” 

“Deal?” 

He winks his right eye socket at her. “You tell me how you knew my old man and Tori and ole’ King Fluffybuns and I’ll tell you want happened to the Doctor.” 

She swallows nervously. “Is that all you want to know?” 

He chuckles. “Nah. I also want to know how you’re connected to the barrier.” His eye lights dim again and a strong chill crawls down her spine. “Tibia honest, kid, that discussion can wait another night.” 

She blinks. Did he just… use a skeleton pun? He winks again. She giggles. He did. He totally just used a skeleton pun. Feeling the tension lighten between them, she relaxes a bit. “Fair enough.” She turns back to the show going on above her head, picking out long memorized constellations and stars, finding the odd place where an old favorite is now gone from the sky. “It was a really long time ago that I first met my friends. Over a thousand years ago, actually, and they lived in monster villages within walking distance of my clan lands. Us four were completely inseparable…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this took longer than it should have. *heavy sigh* Sorry, but I just started a brand new job last week and all I've been doing is passing out when I get home. I love it, but it's a lot more involved than my last job. Anyway, I hope you guys like this latest chapter! Get a bit of a more indepth explanation about how magic works with the human mages in this one. I hope it all makes sense!
> 
> Comments and feedback are always welcome! Hope you all enjoy!

1005

 

“Marianna is trying to kill me.”

  
Her only response is two amused deep chuckles and her friend rolling his eyes in front of her as Doctor Serif works on her shoulder. She sticks her tongue out at him in response. That manages to do nothing more than make G’s eye ridge raise in a purely unimpressed fashion, crossing his arms as if to say _you’re being immature_ without actually having to say the words. Of course, he’s probably thinking that very thing, which makes Rhiannon suppress an eye roll of her own. G’s only a couple years older than her! His acting like he’s so much more older and knowledgeable and mature is stupid.

  
Doctor Serif purposely shifts her arm backwards an inch or two to move her shoulder around in its socket and all of her thoughts come to a grinding halt as renewed pain flares through her joint, leaving her fingers with an intense tingling sensation. She whimpers, shutting her eyes tightly in an attempt not to wrench her arm completely away from the doctor’s bony hands. “Master Mariana may be aggressive in her methods,” Master Philo starts, his baritone voice still carrying his chuckles, “but I assure you she is not trying to kill you, Rhiannon.”

  
Doctor Serif prods his fingers into her joint. She can only assume he’s trying to be gentle, but the responding wave of agony is testament to the strength of her injury. Her fingers tighten around the brown trousers she had worn during the day’s practice with the older—and rougher—Mage of Justice until her knuckles turn white. The doctor behind her hums lightly at her reaction and the pressure of his fingers lightens considerably. A thin trail of sweat gathers down her spine as she takes in a deep, steadying breath.

  
“What is Master Mariana trying to do, then?” Gaster asks, his eye lights focused on the mage leaning against the wall of the guest house they are using during their stay with the Jardine clan. “This is the third time Ree has come back with injuries from her training this week.”

  
Her eyes focus on her mentor too as Doctor Serif steps away from her side and walks to the opposing side of the room, bending down to rummage through a black bag he had brought with him. Gentle tinkling echoes through the air in the direction of the bag he’s rummaging through as he sifts through various vials for the proper medications. Her Master has his staff propped up against his chest, his arms crossed over his chest as he eyes the youngest monster in the room with them. “You are aware that each soul type has a different magical…” he trails off for a moment, tipping his head side-to-side as he searches from the proper word. “Ability, so to speak, than any other, correct?”

  
“Yes, of course,” Gaster readily replies, straightening his posture in the chair he’s accommodated. Rhiannon suppresses an amused smirk as the doctor straightens from his crouched position and makes his way back to her side. She eyes him warily as he joins their side. “Souls of integrity can manipulate gravity, kind souls can heal and create protective barriers, perseverance souls can trap—”

  
“And?” Master Philo prods when it’s clear that Gaster plans on moving onto the next soul type.

  
Gaster pauses with his jaw hanging slightly open, his eye lights darting to the side as he thinks. In the sudden silence, Doctor Serif steps forward and holds out a small vial to Rhiannon. It contains a familiar cloudy tan liquid. She wrinkles her nose at it, looking up at him with slightly pleading eyes. The older skeleton monster’s smile twitches in amusement, his hold steady on the medicinal vial in his grasp. She sighs, knowing that she’s not going to be able to get out of taking the gross concoction she’s had to choke down two times already. Reaching with her left hand, she takes it out of the monster’s grip and stares at it forlornly. Maybe she can get away with smashing it instead?

  
“I know what you are thinking,” Doctor Serif states, his quiet and deep voice interrupting her contemplation before she could do more than consider it. Her shoulders tense at his declaration regardless and she peeks up at him through her eyelashes. He’s definitely smirking now. “You will be pleased to know that I have prepared more of the healing tonic for your consumption. So, if anything were to happen to that one…”

  
He may leave the sentence unfinished, but his meaning is perfectly clear to the ten-year-old mage-in-training: he has more and he’s willing to make more regardless of her desire to actually consume it.

  
Sighing, she gives in to her inevitable fate. She uncorks the small vial—rather clumsily without the easy use of her right hand—and stares at it for a solid twenty seconds with a grimace plastered over her face. _‘Like ripping off a bandage,’_ she tries to psych herself up. It doesn’t work. Without any further delays, she downs the liquid in one go. She sputters as soon as the bitter medicine hits her tongue and she can’t help the violent shudder that races down her spine as it trails down her throat and sticks. The doctor plucks the vial out of her hand before she can damage it, chuckling deeply at her reaction as she struggles with settling the taste of the medicine in her mouth. He retreats to replace it in his bag as Gaster finally answers her master’s prod, for all the world acting like she’s not undergoing a rather cruel form of torture a mere three feet away from him.

  
“Poison!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers and looking particularly proud of himself. Rhiannon is still grimacing as she turns her wavering attention back to the two discussing soul types. She really doesn’t need to pay attention to it seeing as she knows all of this already. As part of her training, she has to visit with each mage of the Souls of Virtue and they explain the importance of each type in the balance of the seven as well as their corresponding vice. Strengths and weaknesses are discussed and drilled into her mind until she could rattle them off in her sleep. Once she has a full understanding of the meaning and importance of each soul type, then she is allowed to learn and practice the magic type and specialty of that soul. She has already met and mastered five of the seven soul types.

  
It goes without saying that green magic is the easiest that comes to her. Second was that of patience, also known as blue magic. Justice, on the other hand, is proving to be a difficult magic to even fathom, let alone actually use it. Blue and orange magic is tricky in their attack forms, but easy to master and cast. Yellow magic is not.

  
Master Philo’s smile grows and he bows his head to Gaster, telling him without words that he’s correct. “Very good. Now the specialty of justice soul magic is attack.”

  
Gaster cocks his head to the side. “So is bravery and patience. Ree didn’t have issues during those trainings.”

  
She snorts. “Yes, I did,” she counters, running the fingers of her left hand up her right arm as the tonic starts to take effect and dull the feeling in that arm. “It just wasn’t this bad.” .

  
Master Philo grins lightly. “Mages of Kindness, such as myself and eventually Rhiannon, are rather notorious for having a difficult time mastering magic that is dominantly attack based. It goes against our very nature. Our soul, if you will.” He shrugs as if to say _what can you do?_ “Orange and blue attacks come easier because there is an out for our opponent: simply remember to remain still when a blue attack is cast, or move when an orange attack is cast, and our opponents do not get hurt. Yellow attacks, however, are designed to hurt regardless of what our opponent does.”

  
Gaster is watching her master with rapt attention as he explains the difficulties in learning attack based magics for ones who harbor a soul of kindness. Rhiannon fully agrees and understands everything Master has stated. After all, it goes against her nature to fight anyone or anything. She has no intention on fighting anyone at any time. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Her magic and soul screams to heal, to protect. To harm would go against that calling.

  
“So, if you have a hard time learning attack based magics,” Gaster starts, bringing a hand up to rub his jaw where a chin would be on a human. The action makes Rhiannon smile again. “Does that mean brave, patient, and justice souls would have a difficult time learning green magic?”

  
Master Philo hums, thinking about that question for a moment. He runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, hazel eyes focused over both of their heads. “Not necessarily,” he finally answers. “Souls of bravery and justice would certainly have a hard time learning healing green magic, but could benefit from defensive green magic. Patient souls, on the other hand, would probably be able to master green magic easily, much how Rhiannon mastered blue and orange attacks easily.” His eyes snap back to Gaster. “It is not necessarily the type of soul that determines what magic will come easiest or with the most difficulty. It is the person, too. Rhiannon, for instance, has a Kind Soul. She mastered healing magic within two years. However, it took her another year to master barriers. I was the opposite during my apprenticeship. Is she any less worthy of being the Mage of Kindness because of our slight difference? Of course not. But it makes it clear that she wishes in her soul to help others, not harm them. Any magic that is based in that is going to rebel with what makes her unique and she is going to have a hard time because of that.”

  
Gaster nods, the orbs in his sockets dim in contemplation as he thinks over her master’s words. In the meantime, Doctor Serif presses his fingers back into her shoulder to test the tenderness. She stares down at his fingers as he massages the muscles around her socket, waiting for any form of pained reaction from her. Fortunately, the tonic is doing its job and numbing any pain she would normally feel while it works on healing the damage wrought to her skin and muscles due to Master Mariana’s attacks from earlier in the afternoon. Satisfied with her lack of a pained reaction, Doctor Serif takes a step back and lowers himself into the ornate wooden chair beside the dining-table-turned-examination-table with a light sigh.

  
“What about the Determined Mages?” Gaster suddenly asks, snapping his head back up to look at her master with curious eyes. “What kind of magic can they use?”

  
His question manages to swing Rhiannon’s full attention away from her numb shoulder to her master, her back straightening. That is the only soul type that her master has never been very clear on. It takes little understanding to comprehend the importance of the other soul types. Justice means knowing the difference between right and wrong and avenging the wrongs inflicted on the innocent. Bravery is able to stand up and fight for a cause even when you’re afraid. Perseverance is seeing any goal and dream through to the end, no matter how difficult that task may be. And so on and so forth. But determination? Well, that always seemed to be quite… out of place with the other virtues. Obviously, determination is needed to do any task, no matter how big or small. But for it to be so important to be considered a virtue always confused Rhiannon.

  
It doesn’t help that Master Philo has never explained what red magic can do.

  
Her master seems to understand the sudden weight of her gaze because his mouth twitches upward slightly. Regardless of his slight amusement, though, he sighs heavily, lowering his chin a few inches to stare at the wooden floorboards. “Determination and red magic is tricky to understand, let alone explain,” he answers haltingly, like he is still trying to order his words. He’s quiet for several long heartbeats. Rhiannon shares a quick look with Gaster, their curiosity only growing the longer he’s silent.

  
“On the outside, red magic appears to be the weakest of the seven soul types,” he finally starts, lifting his head back up. He raises his left hand, swirling his fingers around until a red aura begins to form in the palm of his hand.

“Gaster, if you were to engage me in a fight right this moment, red magic will allow me free movement entirely and it allows my soul the ability to flee a fight. But other than that, within a fighting scenario, red magic really has no other advantage.”

  
Rhiannon’s eyebrows furrow. “Then why does the other masters treat Determination like it’s the most important?” she asks. “It doesn’t sound like it can do anything at all.”

  
“That is not entirely true,” Doctor Serif pipes up, catching her by surprise. The doctor is lounged in his seat, one leg crossed over the other with his arms crossed over his white doctor’s coat. He is giving her a very serious look, his eye sockets half lidded and mouth in a straight line. “Remember that the magic Master Philo speaks of is that which occurs within a normal human soul, not one that can wield magic such as yourself. Any human that would engage in a fight that has a determined soul can do that which your master has already stated. However, one who has magic, who is a mage, can do much more than any other mage.”

  
“Like what?”

  
“Well,” Master Philo takes over. “We are not entirely sure.”

  
“Huh?”

  
“Why not?”

  
The adults share a chuckle at the simultaneous but vastly different expressions of confusion from the two children. Gaster huffs in irritation at their amusement. Her friend hates it when he is not the most knowledgeable person in the room. And considering he’s sitting in a room with a master mage, a mage apprentice, and a doctor who specializes in human and monster anatomy, Rhiannon can tell that her lifelong friend is practically itching in irritation. If a skeleton can itch, that is. His interests lie with soul magic and their uses within monster magic. However, he still has a long way to go before he has a full understanding and his Dad is certainly training him to be a proper scientist too so he can focus on the physical. He knows the same amount about the different soul types as Rhiannon does. He just likes to take it one step farther and experiment with them to create new magic styles.

  
Sobering with an apologetic grin towards Gaster—Master Philo is completely aware of his idiosyncrasies—he goes back to explaining while still playing gently with that bright red aura of magic twirling around his hand. “Determination is a force—Actually, no. It is an emotion that cannot be easily defined. Nor can it be placed within a box of set rules and black and white guide of right and wrong. The other virtues, while very complex in their own ways, are often viewed as good things. We call them virtues for a reason, after all. However, determination is neither good nor evil. It is the gray scale that the other virtues often lack. A person can be kind or they can be cruel. A person can be just or unjust. A person can be patient or impatient. But every human being has a level of determination in them, ranging from little to great.

  
“The higher the determined soul, the better chance of their goal being accomplished. But—” He pauses, holding up a finger in mild warning, the red magic in his palm pulsing and darkening. “The goal is what matters with a Soul of Determination. If they have a good heart and mind and only wants good things, then the magic they wield is good. If their heart and mind is dark and twisted, then the magic will become tainted. There is no way to know for sure if a person with a Soul of Determination is good or bad simply by seeing their soul. After all, a red soul is a red soul.”

  
“But that doesn’t tell us what a Determined soul—red magic—can do,” Rhiannon protests.

  
Her master smirks, but it’s not in amusement. “Anything.”

  
Her and Gaster share another confused look. “Anything?” he echoes.

  
Master Philo bows his head once. “Again, every human has some level of determination within them, regardless of their soul type.” He focuses his hazel eyes entirely on Rhiannon. “Child, look at yourself as an example. You have a green soul, one of kindness. Your main magic style is that of healing and protection. However, you have learned to master many forms of attack magic as well as any range of magics that do not reside within your soul type. Why is that?”

  
She blinks, taken aback by the sudden quiz. “I thought it was because magic is versatile,” she answers with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Just because my soul is green doesn’t mean my magic is limited to just green magic. I can do many other things besides heal and create barriers. I can lift things, attack, help plants grow, and Tori is even teaching me fire magic.”

  
He nods, smiling. “Magic is versatile and is not meant for one use only. That is why no other humans can truly capture and utilize magic anymore. They allowed their souls to determine what they could do and it grew stagnant. Those of us who still teach and know that magic is far more than that can utilize the substance to its full extent. But, there is another reason for why you can learn other forms of magic.”

  
He stops, clearly waiting for Rhiannon to answer. She blinks dumbly at him. Gaster breaks the thick silence, answering the question in her stead. “Ree is determined to learn other ways to use her magic. She wants to be a master.”

  
Her teacher smiles broadly, bowing his head to him. "Exactly. She is determined to learn magic to its fullest and so she has so far. Now, remember, Rhiannon has a soul of Kindness. If her having that level of determination can help her master magic, then imagine what a Soul of Determination can accomplish.”

  
She shivers lightly, even though the room and summer air is warm. “I’m not sure I want to know,” she admits.

  
Doctor Serif snorts lightly. “Determination is something that we monsters have been struggling to understand and comprehend for centuries. We have our own form of determination ourselves, but human determination is far more potent. Your wariness is wise.”

  
“If determination is neither good nor evil,” Gaster starts, his eye orbs flicking between her master and Doctor Serif, “then does that mean there have been… bad Mages before?”

  
“Oh, yes,” Master Philo answers readily, shaking away the red magic from his hand, letting the aura fade away to nothing. “However, there are six other mages in place to keep an eye on each other. If we see any mage begin to go rogue, we intervene immediately.”

  
Rhiannon shivers again. The thought of a powerful mage going dark—or rogue, as her master put it—is a truly horrific thought. The mages are powerful people, not just with their magic. All of the mages hold advisory positions within monster government and human governments. Also, the mages are incredibly valued amongst the masses and are seen as role models. If one mage were to go rogue…

  
Well, it would be disastrous.

  
“Why don’t we leave this conversation alone for now?” Master Philo suggests, his smile gentle as he looks at them both. “Master Adair will be more than willing and able to go over all of this with you both when we join him. And I have also received word that he has finally found an apprentice of his own, so you will have company during your trainings with him.”

  
Doctor Serif hums suddenly, his eye sockets narrowed slightly. “Are the rumors about his successor true, Philo?” he asks.

  
Master Philo bows his head. “Yes, they are, my old friend.” That’s when he looks back at the children in their midst. “You both should be forewarned as well. Master Adair’s new successor is not from the Dalziel clan.”

  
“Really?” Gaster asks.

  
“How come?” Rhiannon asks simultaneously.

  
Master Philo shrugs. “By the time he decided to take on an apprentice, the clan had only a few suitable children within the appropriate age to become an apprentice. None of them had a Soul of Determination to match Master Adair’s. As is custom, when that occurs within our clans, we are allowed to visit the children of neighboring villages to find one of a better fit.”

  
“Who did he pick?” Rhiannon asks, getting tired of the explanation quickly.

  
“Your friend, Zachariah.”

  
She blinks, stunned into shocked silence. Gaster must be in a similar state as her seeing as he is also completely frozen in place, silent. “But…” he starts. He never finishes the protest.

  
“He’s so old!” she finishes for him. “Like, he’s three years older than me! How can he be the apprentice?”

  
Her master smiles. “He is still young enough to be considered, child. Master Adair knows what is needed for the next Mage of Determination. Zachariah apparently has a soul vibrant enough for the role. I am sure he will be determined enough to learn magic rather quickly, regardless of his late start.”

  
Well, her master is certainly correct about that. She shares a slightly nervous look with Gaster. Over the past six years of her apprenticeship, Zach has proven to be just as curious as Gaster about souls and magic. However, because he could not wield magic nor is he part of a clan, there was only so much she could show and teach him. Gaster, being a monster and a son of one of the seven Boss Monsters, has been able to sit in on all of her lessons with Master Philo and even travel with her as she met with all the Mages of Virtue. As time has passed, Zach’s curiosity has morphed to bitter resentment toward them. He’s grown distant and rather cold during their interactions, which has really hurt her over the years. Rhiannon is stubborn though. She has refused to allow his attitude to remove her as one of his friends.

  
Maybe, now that he’s an apprentice, he’ll apologize and warm back up to them all?

  
“It is rather surprising, even to us, that Master Adair chose to take on an older boy as his apprentice,” Doctor Serif states, standing from his chair. “However, we trust in his judgment.”

  
Master Philo nods once in agreement.

  
Rhiannon shrugs, filing this news to the back of her mind to contemplate later. For now, she’s tired of the lecture and lesson. The twilight air is calling her name. She still has much of the forest she wants to explore, lightning bugs to catch, Moldsmals to wiggle with. The night is waning!

  
Her body shifts on the table restlessly, her legs beginning to swing. She looks up at each adult in turn. “Can we go now?”

  
Doctor Serif steps back up to her side. He jabs his phalanges into her injured shoulder rather hard. Other than a slight surprised wince, and a fair amount of pressure, she doesn’t feel anything other than the feel of his bones pressing through her white tunic. He moves his fingers away, grabbing her upper arm in a gentle grip, and begins rolling the joint, testing her limits of movement. She winces as the tendons move, feeling the slight strain as her abused muscles protest the movement while it heals up. “Any agonizing pain?” he asks.

  
“No.”

  
“Tenderness? Soreness? If I asked you to put your weight on your shoulder, would you be able to?”

  
“Yes, yes, and yes again.”

  
He snorts lightly at her cheekiness, but leaves it be. His hand falls away finally and he takes another step back. “Then you may leave.” He holds up a finger, stopping her from jumping off the table right then and there. “But, before you go running off,” he starts, fixing his white orbs on Gaster a moment before focusing on Rhiannon again. “No strenuous activity. The medicine will heal the injuries Mariana wrought on you, but it works best if you allow your body the rest it needs. Do you understand?”

  
“Yes, Doctor Serif,” Rhiannon replies, suppressing the need to roll her eyes yet again.

  
He watches her for a heartbeat too long before focusing back on Gaster. “I trust you will keep the ever adventurous Rhiannon safe from harming herself?”

  
Gaster’s smile is almost devilish. “Yes, Dad. Of course.”

  
Doctor Serif nods once. “You know your restrictions, Rhiannon.”

  
“I would appreciate it if you both would be back before the moon reaches its zenith,” Master Philo states, raising an eyebrow at them. “I do not want to expend the energy of a search spell this night.”

  
Rhiannon and Gaster both murmur their understanding, the former starting to fidget as the adults draw out the moment. Master Philo and Doctor Serif share one final glance before finally nodding their permission for the children to leave.  
Wasting no time—nor allowing the adults a chance to change their minds—Rhiannon bounds off the seat she was anxiously perched on, grabs Gaster’s hand, and rushes them both out of the guest house with shouting promises that they’ll be back soon. Gaster stumbles but regains his footing and keeps pace with her easily as she clears the doorway of the guest house and through the back garden to the fence separating her from the unfamiliar portion of the forest around her. The sky is still a mostly dark blue with speckles of stars starting to shine through as the western sky range through a rainbow of colors to settle with a rich orange as the sun sets. Mount Ebott offers a majestic backdrop as she drags her friend into the treeline.

  
“Come on, G!” she exclaims, giggling lightly. “Let’s see if we can find that lake again!”

  
“Swimming is part of your restrictions, Ree!” he protests.

  
She spares him an annoyed expression over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at him. “I wasn’t planning on swimming, numbskull. I wanted to say hi to the monsters swimming there. They seemed really nice!”

  
He sighs and shakes his head, but his smile is still present. He tugs on her hand hard enough to force her to a stop before she walks face-first into a tree. “Come on, Ree. I know a shortcut.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I decided to sit down to write this, it came out fairly easily. The beginning was a bitch and a half, but, hey, writing is hard. *insert Supernatural reference* 
> 
> *shrugs* Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!

2015

It was only when she heard the muffled shouting through a rather hard and grainy surface pressed into the side of her face that she realized she wasn’t in her bed. The cold breeze drifting through her hair and bright sunlight piercing her eyelids further confirmed her knowledge that she wasn’t in her house. 

Rhona groans, rolling onto her back and allowing her limbs to stretch out from the near fetal position she was in, not quite ready to open her eyes to the world. She’d much rather stay drowned in pleasant memories of an oasis surrounded by soaring trees and the teasing laughter of her best friend. However, the shoutings beneath her head (something about preparing breakfast spaghetti) refused to let her drift back to her far better dreams. 

She sighs, the only annoyance she will allow to show at her being forced to acknowledge the waking world. Blinking her eyes open, Rhona forces herself upright on her roof, turning her head to the left and away from the sun’s too bright rays. The space next to her is empty of the skeleton monster from last night, but her body is draped in another plush blanket. She stares down at the blue material covering her lap. ‘ _Did Sans even bring a blanket up here?’_ She wonders, clutching the blanket around her shoulders just a hair tighter. 

A crunching brings her attention around to her right and she blinks in surprise. Sans is perched on the top of her roof’s incline, fully facing the sun, casting his body in stark shadows. She thought he had gone back inside. 

Rhona climbs onto her feet, careful to keep the blanket around her shoulders. When the cold air hits her legs, she shivers almost violently. Damn her falling asleep on the roof! She can’t afford to get sick with the end of the school year only a month away. Of course, she should have changed out of her dress, but there didn’t seem to be an appropriate time to do that last night. 

“’Morning, pal.” 

She’s startled out of her silent chastisement at Sans’ gruff voice, blinking at his back. Right, she was going to join him. She tries to shake the cobwebs out of her mind, climbing up to his side. “Good morning, Sans,” she returns, carefully seating herself next to him. She splays the extra blanket on her lap, making sure to get Sans’s as well. He looks mildly surprised at the gesture. “Thank you,” she adds, motioning to the blanket. 

His smile grows a little more genuine. “Didn’t want ya chillin’ to the bone,” he replies with a slight shrug. 

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You must think you’re so punny,” she jabs, her grin taking the bite out of her words. 

“Puniest skeleton around,” he confirms with a wink. 

She shakes her head but can’t stop the giggle from leaving her mouth regardless. Rather than give the humerous (‘ _haha_ ’) monster more fuel, she turns her attention forward and to what had his attention so enraptured before she woke up: the sunrise. Granted, the sun has already risen hallway up the sky (‘ _which means it's probably 8 o’clock and crap I have to text Christine!_ ’), but the sky is a rich blue with only a few whisps of clouds to break up the endless expanse. Sunrises offer no joy or wonder to her anymore, but it's clear that it does to the monster beside her. 

Rather than break up the tranquility between them, she allows the cool air to remain undisturbed other than the chirping of birds and animals scurrying around. It’s actually rather nice, Rhona decides. It’s not often she can sit in a comfortable silence without feeling the need to fill it with idle chatter. Sans doesn’t strike her as the chit-chat type anyway. Although, she could probably fill it with questions if she really wanted to. He was incredibly vague the previous night about Gaster. Something about an accident at the Core, whatever that means. Although, mentioning the Core did make her think of that geothermal doohickey or other G would go on about when they were kids. Makes her wonder if he was successful. She hopes he was.

Thinking about G only lowers her spirits, her hands fisting into the blanket draped over her lap. She was hoping that he would survive until the barrier was broken, even if that was a long shot. G may have been a Boss Monster much like Asgore and Toriel, but it isn’t in the nature of skeleton monsters to fight. She had no doubt that Asgore and Toriel would survive the many centuries, but she strongly worried about G and his ability to not lose hope. A monster that has lost hope… Well, it’s very hard to watch a monster falling down. 

Not only that, but no one was as knowledgeable about soul magic like G, outside the mages, that is. If anyone could figure out the conundrum of her existence and how to break the curse that was placed on her soul, it would have been him. But, no. He was destroyed in what sounds like something that was a complete accident. She’ll never be able to even hug him again and say thank you for the countless times he helped her when they were growing up. He didn’t need to pay for her stupid mistakes. 

“Ten gold for your thoughts, pal?” Sans suddenly pipes up, breaking her silent reverie yet again. 

She turns her head to find the white pinpricks of his eyes focused on her out of the corner of his eye sockets. She sighs, shaking her head at his encouraging expression. “Just thinking about G.” 

His expression doesn’t change. It takes her a solid thirty seconds to realize he wants her to elaborate. She shrugs. “I just miss him,” she continues. “I guess that’s nothing new, though. I’ve missed him for a thousand years. But, I’ve always thought he would be walking with Asgore when the barrier fell. Or Asgore’s child whenever he and Tori decided to have one. Now I know he’s gone and… Well, I guess I’m going through the motions.” 

‘ _Why is it so easy to talk to him?’_ she wonders, turning to face the sun again. She hasn’t been this open with anyone since… well, since her childhood if she was being perfectly honest. She refuses to get too close to anyone anymore. It only hurts. She has no intention to break that streak now. 

Yes, she’ll help the monsters in her current care, but only long enough for them to get settled in the aboveground. Then she’ll return to her life of seclusion. She still has to find a way to break her curse after all. And she has no idea what will happen to her once it is broken. It’s just better to stay away from everyone until that’s figured out. 

“I’ll admit, kiddo, I didn’t expect to find anyone up here that actually knew the old man,” Sans admits quietly. “It’s a little nice knowing that he had someone that mourns him still.” 

“Besides you, you mean?” she asks. 

That manages to capture his attention. He swivels his head to face her fast enough that she’s positive she heard a crack in one of his neck vertebrae. She meets his wide sockets with calm eyes of her own. The corner of her mouth twitches upwards, no matter how much she tries to keep her expression neutral. “Come on, Sans,” she chides lightly. “I knew Gaster since he was a toddler and I was a baby. A thousand years apart hardly means much to me. I know a child of his when I meet them.”

She waves her hand almost dismissively. “Besides, all other skeleton monsters were wiped out in the war. It doesn’t take that much of a mental leap to come to the conclusion that you and Papyrus are his kids.” She narrows her eyes on him, only partially playfully. “Although, how he did it is another question. It does take two monsters to create child, even if the manner varies. But, if anyone could find a way to create progeny without another monster getting involved, it would be G, the stupidly curious scientist that he was.” 

His cheekbones light up in a light dusting of blue at the sudden turn her tirade went and she doesn’t bother to mask her giggles this time. “Don’t worry,” she reassures him. “I don’t want to know how he created you and Papyrus. I get the feeling I wouldn’t understand it anyway.” 

He laughs forcefully, rubbing the back of his skull. “Heh, yeah, I’m not sure I understand it either,” he says, but Rhona has a feeling that’s not entirely true. There’s something about Sans that Rhona can’t quite put her finger on. Something that shows that he is more than how he portrays himself. 

“Sans! Human! Are you out here?” 

They both jump at the suddenly loud voice echoing from her backyard. They both peek towards the ground. Papyrus is walking slightly around her backyard, hands on his hip bones, and very clearly looking for the two of them. Sans and Rhona share a quick glance. “Up here, bro!” Sans calls. 

Papyrus turns towards the house, but doesn’t look up. His eye sockets narrow, a hand coming up to rub his jaw. “Sans?” he calls again. “I thought I heard your voice, but you are nowhere in sight!” 

“Look up, big guy.” 

Papyrus does as told, tipping his head back. He starts slightly to find his brother and Rhona sitting on the roof. She lifts her hand in a small wave, a sheepish smile on her face as he places his hands on his hips once again, for all the world looking like a stern mother. Of course, the image is only made more apparent given he seems to have located her one and only apron. That’s pink. With a ridiculous bow on the front waist. It takes all of her ability not to laugh at the image. 

“Why are you two on the roof?” he asks. “That is hardly appropriate!” Just as Rhona opens her mouth to tell him it’s okay—especially considering it’s her own roof—he waves a hand. “No matter! I wished to inform you both that the Queen is preparing breakfast and that you should come and join us!” 

“Toriel is?” Rhona mutters. Her mind jumps back to a different time, one where her friend was just beginning to learn how to cook with her fire magic and the absolute improvement her foods became after the switch. Her mouth unwillingly begins to water. 

“What’s she making, bro?” Sans asks, a particular gleam entering his eye orbs. 

Papyrus hums, his chin lowering to look through the glass patio doors and through to the kitchen. “I am not sure!” he finally answers honestly. “For some reason, the Queen refuses any assistance I, the Great Papyrus, has offered! Not even the suggestion of spaghetti would sway her mind!” 

“Thank god,” Rhona mutters under her breath, sagging in mild relief. It’s good to know she won’t have to be subjected to spaghetti again. And that her kitchen might make it to the end of the morning with Toriel cooking in Papyrus’s and Undyne’s stead. 

Sans snickers lightly. “It sounds like Tori is bacon your heart, bro.” 

“Sans!” 

The anguished shout and glare makes Rhona break out into another fit of giggling. Yep, the skeleton at her side is a pun fiend and it’s abundantly clear that his brother does not appreciate that brand of humor. “We’ll be right down, Papyrus!” she shouts before Sans can continue to torment his brother. 

Satisfied with her answer, Papyrus nods with a bright smile and retreats back inside. Sans chuckles for another moment before sobering just as Rhona stands, careful of her footing. “Isn’t my bro the coolest?” He asks, standing up also while she folds the two blankets into her arms. 

She pauses to give him a warm smile. “Yeah, he is.” 

She leads him back inside through the window, shooing him off downstairs so she can shower and change in privacy. It sounds like everyone has already gathered into her living room. 

She retreats into the upstairs bathroom with a change of jeans and a casual light green top just as Cleo bounds up the stairs and manages to force her way into the bathroom before Rhona could shut the door. She can only laugh and ruffle her fur, allowing her pet entrance. Every dog that she has ever had has the same need to be in the bathroom with her when she decides to shower or do anything. 

Cleo curls up at the door while Rhona gets around for the day, cutting corners where she can so she can get downstairs and help Toriel if she needs it. Of course, she has a nagging suspicion that the monster wouldn’t accept her help even if she were to offer it. Tying her long hair back into a fishtail braid, she stares at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment. 

Her unusual purple eyes are wider than normal, not surprising given the state her life has recently turned. In fact, her naturally tanned skin is looking paler than usual and her freckles stand out just a little too starkly against her skin. It seems it still hasn’t quite sunk in everything that has happened within the past fifteen hours and her pallor certainly proves that. She’s sure if she were to run into anyone she knows today, they would think she’s sick. The monsters downstairs, though, wouldn’t notice anything wrong. 

Sighing, she flips her braid over her shoulder and looks down to her dog. Cleo’s head pops up at her sudden attention. “Let’s go, girl.” 

They both plod down the stairs and through the empty living room. Cleo darts ahead of her into the dining room where everyone seems to have gathered around the table again. Asgore has taken a seat at the head of the table, listening attentively to Undyne as she and Alyphys carry on a conversation. Papyrus now has his hands full of a puppy-eyed looking Cleo as she attempts to beg for pets, Sans watching the encounter with amused eyes. He’s probably trying to think of a good dog pun as Papyrus attempts to shoo Cleo away to no avail. 

Rhona offers the group a warm good morning before retreating into her kitchen, bracing herself for the mess left over from last night. However, as she enters through the archway, she is met with gleaming counters and appliances, no stains or mess anywhere in sight. Her mouth gapes open slightly as she stands in the doorway, staring at the transformation with unabashed amazement. Her expression must be very apparent to those sit ting behind her because a chorus of loud “fuhuhuhuhu”’s and “Nyehehehe”’s ring out. 

“You didn’t think we’d leave your kitchen a disaster, did you, punk?” Undyne nearly shouts, banging her fist against the wooden table and making the plates and cutlery jump and clatter at the force of her strike. Her grin is wolfish as Rhona turns to look at the aggressive fish monster woman. “What kind of guests would we be?” 

“I-I just didn’t think—“ 

“A clean and ordered home is a clean and ordered mind!” Papyrus agrees with a slightly haughty look. His grin is nothing but warmth and amusement though. “And it would be incredibly rude of us to leave your kitchen a mess, new human friend!” 

She grins. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it. It was very sweet of you.” 

Papyrus’s smile grows, a light dusting of orange lighting up his cheekbones as Undyne laughs a “no problem, punk!” in her direction. She turns back around to face her kitchen again, focusing her attention back on the goat monster and small child standing in front of the stove. 

“Good morning, Toriel, Frisk,” she calls, making a beeline for the counter and getting her coffee started. No way is she about to face today without having caffeine first. 

Frisk rushes over to her and wraps their arms around her waist in a tight hug as their form of greeting. Rhona pats their head with a smile warm enough to match the size of Frisk’s. “Good morning, Rhona,” Toriel calls, looking over her shoulder to smile at her. “Frisk and I are preparing pancakes. I hope that will be alright?” 

Rhona pointedly ignores the grumble of her stomach as Frisk retreats back to Toriel’s side. “That sounds wonderful, Toriel,” she agrees. “Thank you for making breakfast. I could have—“ 

“Nonsense!” Toriel cuts her off with a gentle smile. “It is only right that we prepare as we are imposing on your hospitality. I will, of course, leave some gold to make up the difference.” 

Rhona’s eyes widen. “No! Absolutely not!” She walks the five or so paces it takes to stand beside Toriel, hands on her hips as the coffee machine gurgles to life. “You hold onto your money, Toriel. You are going to need it if you want to build a home for you and Frisk. If that means I have to sacrifice a little more of my paycheck every week to help feed you all, then I will.” She lifts her hand and points at Toriel’s blinking face. “No arguing.” 

Toriel blinks three times at her finger in surprise. Frisk starts to snicker under their breath and that manages to rip Rhona’s gaze towards the small child, giving them a matching stern look. That seems to break the spell Toriel had fallen under because she immediately relaxes, laughing quietly into her paw. “I understand, my friend,” she finally concedes, turning back to the stove and pouring some batter onto a skillet. 

“Good.” Rhona nods once in finality and turns back to the coffee maker as it starts to pour out the lovely concoction. 

Toriel hums slightly as she begins flipping the batter, Frisk watching the process with rapt attention. Her hum captures Rhona’s attention. She recognizes that sound. She sighs, turning her head enough to look at the monarch over her shoulder. “What?” She deadpans, knowing that Toriel won’t supply any words unless prodded. 

“It is nice.” 

“What is?” 

Toriel meets her curious eyes with a gentle smile. “To know that you still have your fire, my old friend. I was afraid you had lost it.” 

She turns back to the stove, clearly content with Rhona not giving her a response as she stares at her former friend with nothing but shock and surprise on her face. 

\---

“Where is that blasted phone?” Rhona mumbles to herself, shoving boxes and tubs this way and that from her upper shelving unit in her closet. It’s been a good sixty years since she was first mailed a direct phone to the president, but in the decades since, the phone has been updated to an old Nokia cellphone dinosaur that she’s sure would make some high school students scoff. She hasn’t been sent an updated phone since the late ‘90s. Normally, she would worry about the leader of the country not being informed of her, but she doubts that’s the case. 

It would take an apocalyptic event to destroy this phone. No need to waste tax money to update a phone that was never meant to be used. 

She shoves a pink, plastic tub to the right and discovers a brown box shoved all the way against the wall. It’s a fairly small box, as tall as her torso and no wider than her waist. There are no markings or writing indicating what might be inside, unlike the rest of her boxes and storage tubs. She recognizes it for what it is regardless. 

She manages to catch the corners of the box and pull it off the shelf without the use of a step stool. Grunting at the unexpected weight, she props it up against her chest and walks out of her closet to drop it on her bed. She quickly moves the flaps out of the way and begins rummaging through the various piles of forgotten items she can’t bare to throw away. Her fingers pause when they scrap the edges of a rough Manila envelope hidden behind an old purple blanket with various sized holes from centuries of abuse. 

Rhona turns and sits on the edge of her bed, staring at the heavy envelope in her hands, the distant sounds of chatter and anime drifting up from the living room. Carefully, so as not to rip the paper, she unbends the small metal clasps and pulls out the aged paper letter she received from the first president who contacted her. It’s creased down the middle with some spots of tearing. She opens it carefully. When she first received it, she had opened and closed it hundreds of times, read it probably three times that amount, and used to have the message inside memorized. 

Not anymore. 

_Dear Ms. Kinnear,  
_

_This correspondence is long overdue and I do apologize that none of my predecessors reached out to you. I am trying to rectify that mistake._

_Coming into this office, I have been very quickly informed of any number of topics that will require my attention for the next four years. The Monster situation, however, I was told about only through a book my predecessor left for me. I regret I did not get the chance to read it until now, hence why I am writing you almost a year late. Again, I apologize.  
_

_I quickly was informed that my intelligence agency has been keeping an eye on you and the mountain since the turn of the century. After reviewing over half a decade’s worth of reports, I have noticed that you stay within close proximity of the mountain when you move. I can only speculate that you are a silent sentinel, keeping watch over the barrier. I must admit my ignorance about Monsters other than the folk tales and urban legends I was told as a child. I do not know if this Monster race is the thing of nightmares I thought or something else entirely. The information provided in this book is sparse.  
_

_But, I digress.  
_

_I have noticed that your movements remain around Mt. Ebott to the five towns and cities closest to it. I can only assume you move to keep your unique condition secret, which is understandable. And seeing that you remain within close proximity of the mountain, I have come to a decision regarding my intelligence, if you are willing.  
_

_I am going to immediately cease and desist all surveillance on or around the mountain. With the threat of war, it is only logical I pool all the resources I can. Enclosed with this letter is a blue telephone I hope you will install in your home. It is a direct line to my office. If anything were to change in the status of the mountain, I wish for you to call me directly to begin the process of handling and integrating the Monster race back to the surface. I will, of course, adhere to any advice you have on the matter, Ms. Kinnear.  
_

_It may be foolishness to believe the state of Mt. Ebott will change and that those trapped will not immediately declare war on us should they break free, but I choose to be an optimistic man. Should it happen tomorrow or another thousand years from now, they will escape their prison. I would much rather meet them with open arms rather than loaded guns.  
_

_I thank you in advance, Ms. Kinnear. And I thank you for all that you have already done for this country and race.  
_

_Warm Regards._

It was a rather nice letter, even though Rhona bristles every time at his last thanks. The only thing she did was trap monsters in the underground. She deserves to be stoned for that, not thanked. Still, his heart seemed to be in the right place. And he was the only one who wrote her a letter. His term as president ended tragically prematurely and she remembers how much his death shatterEd hers and the nation’s spirits. He was a true beacon of hope. 

She tips the envelope and catches the black brick of a phone, her thumb rubbing smudges off the small screen. The president of today… Rhona has no idea how he will react.

Well, only one way to find out. 

She drops the empty envelope and letter on her bed and makes her way back downstairs. The ragtag group of monsters are gathered around her TV again, Japanese yelling echoing from the speakers. Alphyhs seems to be in the middle of a spirited explanation of the anime to a rapt Undyne and Papyrus. Sans is back in the same position he was in last night: feet kicked up on the coffee table and napping. She passes through the room quickly to her dining room and adjoined kitchen. She pauses beside her patio doorways when she sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. 

Cleo and Frisk are playing outside, the child throwing a random stick they must have found in her yard, her labsky more than willing to chase after the target and bring it back. Rhona grins, noticing her former student’s large smile as Cleo runs about the yard, her tail wagging like crazy. She’s just glad that Frisk seems to be happy now. 

“Rhona?” 

Her attention is torn away from the happy sight at the deep call of her name. Asgore is standing in the archway leading to her kitchen. His large stature takes up all the space in the archway, his horns just long enough that he would have to duck his head in order to pass through. He’s shed the purple cloak, but he really needs to find something other than gold armor to wear in order to look less intimidating. 

Rhona lifts her hand, showing off the phone to the curious monarch. “I found it.” 

He straightens, a slight apprehension crossing his face. “Good. Then we can begin.” 

She nods, feeling her soul flutter uncertainly. She waves her hand to the table in invitation, taking a seat beside the head of the table so she can watch Frisk and Cleo play in the sun. Asgore takes the seat opposite hers, folding his paws together on top of the dark wood. They stare at each other for a long moment, feeling the pressure and weight of importance press on their shoulders. After all, the next handful of moments will determine the immediate future—and, potentially, long-term future—of monster kind. 

Finally, when the tension in the room could be cut through with a spoon, let alone a knife, Rhona breaks her purple gaze from Asgore’s bronze one and stares at the phone in her hand. She wets her suddenly dry lips, willing her hand to stop shaking as she presses the power button. The screen lights up—despite her passing hope that it wouldn’t—and she watches the logo cross the screen sluggishly. ‘ _Wow, I forgot how slow the technology was in the late ‘90s,_ ’ she marvels, resisting the urge to drum the table with the fingers of her left hand. 

When the time finally pops up on the screen, she releases a harsh breath. It’s now or never. She presses the button to open the contacts and finds exactly what she found the first and only time she turned this phone on: one number, alone on a screen that could fit four. 

She lifts her eyes back up to Asgore for one brief moment, looking for any sign that he doesn’t want her to press the dial button, any hint of panic or displeasure. Unfortunately, she doesn’t find any variation of the two emotions. If anything, she finds something she isn’t used to seeing anymore. 

Determination. 

Steeling herself, she hits the green button without waiting to think more about it. She brings the phone up to her ear as it starts to ring, counting each ring under her breath. One… Two… Three… Four… Five…

Six…

Seven….

Eight….

Nine…

Te—

The ring cuts off and a breath unwittingly gets caught in her throat. Blood rushes to her face as the palm holding the phone to her face suddenly gains perspiration that wasn’t there a minute ago. Her ear strains for any sound on the other end of the line. Nothing but silence for a long agonizing moment. But then, there’s a faint rustle of cloth rubbing against itself as whoever is holding the phone moves. Perhaps to bring his own phone up to his ear. There’s another long pause of silence. A long drawn out breath. 

“Hello?” 

She resists the urge to bite her lip and hang up the instant the cultured voice comes through the phone. Instead, she attempts to pull out the young woman she used to be so many centuries ago, the willful, kind, and always concise advisor that was able to look princes and kings in the eye without flinching. That’s who needs to be speaking right now. Not the small town elementary school teacher that gets pushed around and has a severe lack of self-confidence and major depression. 

“Hello, Mr. President,” she starts, her voice only shaking slightly. “My name is Rhona Kinnear. And I have the King of all Monsters here sitting in my dining room. He would very much like to have a word with you.” 


End file.
